


It Always Starts in Cokeworth

by preciselypotter



Series: Cokeworth AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Drama, F/M, Marauders' Era, Post Hogwarts AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7499217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciselypotter/pseuds/preciselypotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily Evans went down a different path in life when she left Hogwarts. Two years later, the last person she’d expect comes to bring her back into the world she left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I-III

**I**

Cokeworth always smelled slightly of coal and cotton.

As a young girl, Lily never noticed the odors of the factories across the river. She had been born in Cokeworth General Hospital, had attended Cokeworth Primary School, and grew up on Packer Street where the wind passed along the scent of burning coal more strongly than the rest of the entire town. But the summer after Lily’s first year attending Hogwarts in the clean Scottish highland air, Lily stepped out of her father’s car upon her return and nearly gagged.

In the summers following that first awful transition back to the smell of Cokeworth Lily had managed to grow accustomed once more to the stuffy air—but it was Hogwarts’ scent that gave her a true sense of childhood nostalgia.

So it was strange that, after finding a place that felt much more like home than her home town, Lily found herself twenty, married, and settled in Cokeworth.

She sat on the front porch swing, watching the shade line move across the street. It was Lily’s day off—not that Lily had a job, exactly. Against her best intentions, Lily had become a housewife in the spitting image of her own mother. On the bright side, magic made quick work of the menial housework Lily faced every day. The down side included long stretches of abject boredom.

At around two o’ clock, Lily decided to go to the store. There was nothing in particular she needed to purchase; if she spent the rest of her day stuck on Packer Street her mind would snap and she would take it out on poor Richard, who did absolutely nothing to deserve Lily’s wrath. With a vague plan of action in mind, Lily stepped back inside her house and was immediately met with a soft mewling.

“Oh _hush_ , Mosley,” she sighed, stepping carefully as her orange tabby tried to wind around her ankles. Mosley cried out for affection and Lily half-heartedly bent down to stroke her cat’s spine before moving forward and up the stairs.

As she climbed the staircase, Lily spared a glance for her wedding photograph. Richard had never looked more handsome than he had that day, and she still had the wedding dress in the back of her closet. She considered taking it out for a moment before abandoning the idea.

 

* * *

 

The wheels of her shopping cart squeaked every two seconds as they rolled along the linoleum. Lily gritted her teeth and ignored the sound, wishing she could bring her wand to the store.

It wasn’t allowed. She shouldn’t even bring out her wand for housework, but the idea of locking her wand away in her trunk along with all her schoolbooks and robes and _potions kit_ was too upsetting to contemplate. What Richard didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and no one was home to see her cast a few spells here and there—

“Lily, dear, what a lovely surprise,” said a familiar voice.

Lily winced and plastered a smile on her face before coming to a halt. She half-turned, keeping her hands on the shopping cart is if someone might steal the contents.

“Mrs Kern,” she cooed. “How nice to see you.”

Her grandmother’s friend pushed her cart right up besides Lily’s. “I don’t usually come out to the market these days; Trudy likes to cook for me. But I thought, why don’t I make something for my daughter for a change? She’s been so generous, taking me in in my old age.”

Mrs Kern rarely spoke kind words about her daughter Trudy, and “generous” had never made an appearance before. Certainly Mrs Kern wasn’t shopping for her daughter’s benefit—Lily had discovered shortly after married life began that the grocery store was not only the locale of fresh food but also fresh gossip. Clearly whatever Trudy had been bringing home was limp and inedible for her mother’s raw diet of petty foibles.

“Yes, my mother often spoke of how kind Trudy is,” Lily replied.

“It’s such a shame about your mother,” Mrs Kern simpered. She learned forward like a dog scenting a rabbit during the first hunt of the season. “And poor Gertrude, having to watch her daughter pass on without any grandchildren! At least Wendy got to watch both you and Petunia walk down the aisle before she passed. I wonder, will your grandmother see any great-grandchildren in the future?”

“I know Petunia’s trying for a child,” said Lily. She wanted to scream at the wizened old woman, using her mother’s death as a bait for news. How dare she treat something so painful in such a careless manner? “She and Vernon are so _dedicated_ to starting a family.”

“And what about you, dear?” asked the wretched old woman.

Lily froze. “Pardon?”

“Don’t you and Richard want a family?”

“Of course we do,” she answered. This question was an easy one—she’d practiced her response in front of a mirror many times. “Right now, we’re more interested in spending time with each other. It’s so important that we truly understand one another before trying to raise a child. Or children.”

“It seems a bit difficult to truly understand your husband when you sleep in separate beds.”

“I…what?”

Mrs Kern smiled, knowing she had the “rabbit” in her sights. Lily knew it too; her heart was beating a mile a minute. The old woman chased after her story.

“Meg and Paul said they were at your house the other day having dinner, and Meg told me that when she went upstairs to use the loo she just happened to stumble into the guest room, and all your things were in the closet!”

“Did she?” Lily replied through gritted teeth.

Meg West had apparently not inherited Trudy’s kind nature, instead taking after her horrid grandmother.

“It’s terribly concerning,” Mrs Kern added, as though any of this were about Lily’s well-being.

“There’s nothing to be concerned about,” Lily said. Her mind raced.

The old woman pursed her lips. “I know I didn’t sleep in a separate bed from Mr Kern in my early twenties,” she tsked. “The first five years after our wedding we could barely stay apart from each other.”

Lily suppressed a gag at the thought of Mr and Mrs Kern in bed together, of Mr Kern with his sagging face and lewd eyes coupling with the bloodhound he called a wife.

“Well, we _would_ be sharing a bed, except for…” she trailed off with a deliberate, hesitant pause. “No, I shouldn’t. It’s private.”

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t tell a soul, dear,” lied Mrs Kern as she went in for the kill.

“It’s just…poor Richard,” said Lily. “He recently had surgery on his…” she lowered her voice, “ _manhood_ , and it’s such a discomfort to have me so near when he can’t… _oh, you know…_ ”

“Raise his mast?”

Lily nodded, trying desperately not to cringe. Oh, she owed Richard for this.

“Not that he won’t be able to soon,” she added, for the sake of his dignity. “There’s nothing permanently wrong. But we’re spending a little time apart while he heals.”

“I see,” Mrs Kern said. The blood was on her lips, or so she thought. “No one will know a thing, dear.”

That was a lie, Lily knew as Mrs Kern trundled away. She silently swore at Meg for being so wretched. She’d thought the younger woman could have been a friend, someone close to Lily’s age in Cokesworth who she could actually speak to for a change. But no, Lily had been nothing more but the sound of a trumpet in Mrs Kern’s never-ending hunt for gossip.

She didn’t feel much like shopping anymore. Lily turned her cart around and headed toward the checker.

 

* * *

 

Richard himself arrived promptly at six that evening, letting himself in the house with a pleasant “Honey, I’m home!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” Lily called to him.

His footsteps grew marginally louder as he crossed through the foyer and sitting room. “Smells good in here,” he commented, walking through the swinging kitchen doors.

“It’s an apology meal,” she said.

“You’re apologizing to me?” Richard inquired. “What have you done?”

“I told Mrs Kern you have a defective...willy.” she admitted hurriedly.

Richard dropped the salt shaker he’d picked up. “Sorry, you what?”

“I said I told Mrs Kern your pecker isn’t working. Oh, look, the lamb’s almost done!”

“Lily…”

She sighed and turned to face him, her back against the hot oven. If she hadn’t been sweating before, Lily knew her neck was damp now. “I ran into her at the market and _apparently_ Meg told her we’ve got separate beds. I had to think of something, and the first thing I thought of was—”

“Damage to my parts?”

“Well, why else would we be sleeping apart?” Lily pointed out. “I did tell her it was temporary, if that helps.”

“Damn,” Richard cursed all the same. He glanced into the pot of hot water. “Potatoes? Excellent. Anyhow, you said it was Meg who told Mrs Kern?”

She turned and opened the oven. The lamb she was baking looked about ready, but when Lily stuck the thermometer in the roast it still wasn’t at the temperature she needed. It was a shame; if ever she needed something to do with her hands it was now. Lily closed the oven door again and set the timer to five more minutes.

“When she and Paul came to dinner last week, Meg took a close look at our bedrooms and our closets,” Lily told him. “I have no problem with Paul visiting, but that girl is not allowed in this house again. Not if she’s going to spout everything she sees off to that horrid woman.”

“Paul’s gran isn’t that bad—”

“She’s going to tell all the wives in this town about your little problem. And they will tell their husbands.”

“Shit.”

Lily bustled over to the stove and checked on the potatoes. “You’re not the only one who needs this marriage to run smoothly. In order for that happen, Meg West can’t come over again.”

“So that’s the scolding part,” observed Richard. “Are we going to see the ‘apology’ part of this dinner soon?”

“Lamb, potatoes, and caramelized carrots in about twenty minutes,” she answered. “Go get freshened up, and then help me set the table, if you please.”

“Alright. I have to say, there have been better apologies in my lifetime.” Richard hesitated before adding, “Thank you for covering, though. I wish it had been a different lie, but I _do_ appreciate it.”

Lily nodded twice; sharp, jerky movements that didn’t really mean anything. As Richard walked away and headed up the staircase, she nodded again to keep the pressure behind her eyes from turning into tears.

 

* * *

 

**II**

 

The dog had been hanging about for the past week. Lily had first noticed it when she went for a stroll through her neighborhood; a large, mangy dog with black fur and giant paws. She had thought nothing of it at the time, but after spotting it at least a dozen times since, all times without an owner, Lily was growing nervous for the poor creature.

She’d resolved after watching the dog chase after a squirrel that the next time she spotted it, she’d take it home and give it a proper bath.

What Richard would think of a pet in their home, Lily had no idea. They’d never discussed owning a pet, mainly because caring for another living being implied some sort of long-term commitment. Mosley had been Lily’s cat before she got married and it was by tacit agreement that after the marriage ended he would stay with her. A new pet was a different discussion altogether.

But the dog tugged on something in her. Whenever she saw it there was an innate sense of familiarity, one that kept touching an instinct to take the dog home and feed it, and she would simply inform Richard that the dog would be her responsibility.

That was why on this day Lily had embarked upon a long walk around Cokeworth, wand hidden in the band of her skirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mangy creature. She hadn’t walked through most of Cokeworth in a long while—half the town was covered in soot and the other half was likely to give her bad memories. Yet she was discovering some of the pain in those memories had quieted.

For example, the front lawn where she and Petunia played with Richard as children, two blocks down from where she and Richard lived now, used to fill her with such regret, but today she didn’t think it mattered all that much.

And the park swings where Severus Snape had first told Lily she was a witch…well, that was a batch of mixed feelings, of which she felt only muted echoes.

After several hours of wandering through the town, Lily turned onto Spinner’s End. She’d deliberately avoided all routes that lead to the cul de sac, wishing to see anything but Severus’ old home. She heard Tobias Snape still lived there, even more bitter and inclement since his wife had passed. Lily remembered feeling sorry for Severus when she learned about his mother, the first time in a long while she’d pitied anything about him at all.

The elder Snape had never liked Lily, treating her with a mixture of disappointment and revulsion. He thought the worst of witches and wizards and viewed Lily as a traitor, as though she had willed herself to become magical somehow. She’d never played with Severus on Spinner’s End because of Mr Snape and even now a little part of her held that same childhood fear of him.

It was the dog, ultimately, that decided her excursion down Spinner’s End.

She saw the hind quarters of it ducking behind a ramshackle house, tail up in the air and wagging. Lily glanced around the street but saw no one—not that she would, at this time of day. Most occupants of Spinner’s End worked in the factory, men and women alike. Emboldened by her apparent privacy, Lily hurried forward.

“Dog?” she called tentatively, completely at a loss of how one might call an animal. Lily had only ever owned cats in her life, and cats never responded to summons. “Here, dog!”

She peered around the house, catching a glimpse of black fur. The dog was ferreting through the garbage with apparent glee, snorts and snuffles filling the air.

“Hello, there,” said Lily. She pulled out her wand very slowly.

She didn’t think it was dangerous, but it was a very large dog and one never knew about rabies and the like. It might go mad and suddenly run her down, and what good would that do either of them?

As she stepped on a crinkly tarp discarded on the ground, the dog snapped its head up.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then the dog cocked its head curiously.

“ _Arf_?”

“Hello,” Lily repeated. She tucked a good length of her wand behind her to keep from scaring the creature before realising to the dog, it was just a stick. She brought it back out into the open. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“ _Nrph_ ,” the dog answered. With a last, longing look, the dog pulled itself away from the trash bins and started padding toward Lily with a wagging tail.

She bent down and put out a hand. “I’m very nice, see?”

The dog stepped forward and smelled her for all of two seconds before stretching out a large pink tongue and wiping her entire hand, leaving behind sticky drool.

“Ugh,” Lily groaned. She wiped her hand on the hem of her skirt. “Listen, I’m going to take you home and give you a bath, alright?”

It was possible she was imagining it, but the dog’s tail began wagging a bit harder in response.

“Come along, then, that’s a good dog,” she said, standing. “Good boy. Are you a boy?” She bent over and peered between the dog’s legs where his manhood dangled proudly.

The dog nudged her thigh with his head and looked up with large, eager eyes.

“Yes, you’re adorable,” Lily told him dryly. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

Mosley reacted very badly to his new companion.

Within the first ten minutes of the dog’s arrival, her orange tabby completely tore up Richard’s favorite armchair, clawed Lily’s arm hard enough to break skin, and, when the dog had enthusiastically given chase, pushed the matt in front of the back door so far away that it was nearly in the foyer.

Lily had to physically pull the dog away from Mosley after her cat had been cornered in the sitting room, a feat that was more difficult that should be since she was also using a Shield Charm to separate the two. It wasn’t until she had locked the dog inside her bathroom upstairs that Lily could set everything to rights. The armchair, scratches, and doormat were easy enough; Mosley’s terror was another matter.

“Hush, Mosley,” she insisted for the fiftieth time as her cat cried loudly. “Hush, you’re fine.”

Mosley had peed all over the carpet in her one-minute absence, and Lily could not for the life of her find the missing drops of it. She could smell the urine so she _knew_ it was there, but Mosley had done a good job in his revenge of hiding the evidence.

“Shh,” she added as he whined more insistently. With some hesitancy, Lily put out her hand and began to stroke his back. She’d had a few bad experiences where Mosley had used his claws to communicate his displeasure with her, but thankfully he seemed more interested in comfort than justice at the moment.

It took a few minutes, but Mosley’s puffed tail did return to its normal sleekness. He began to purr.

“There, see?” Lily reassured him. “That dog won’t do anything to you. He’s a good dog. You can’t even hear him barking up there, he’s so good.”

Mosley eyed the staircase, apparently _not_ agreeing with her.

“Come here,” she sighed, grabbing him around the middle and hoisting him up.

“ _Scourgify_ ,” Lily incanted, pointing her wand at the carpet. She fanned the cleaning spell all over the sitting room and then silently dried off the surfaces, returning everything to the spotless condition in which she kept it.

“There,” she said to no one. To Mosley she added, “Let’s get you some food.”

 

* * *

 

“What on earth should I do with you?” Lily asked the dog a while later.

He splashed around in her tub, a rubber duck Lily had found under the sink his current quarry. If it was possible for animals to smile this dog was grinning like a madman. He seemed determined that she should be at least as wet as she was and Lily had given up drying herself off with hot air from her wand.

In response to her question, the dog looked up with large, irresistible eyes.

“I’m not going to toss you back out on the street,” she reassured him. “You need food and a warm place to sleep, don’t you?”

He wagged his tail frenetically, flinging water in all directions.

“Thank you,” Lily said sardonically. She sighed and leaned forward again to wash the last of the soap out of the dog’s fur. He didn’t smell appealing by any measure and Lily had to restrain herself from wrinkling her nose. It wasn’t the dog’s fault; no reason to be rude over the whole wet dog affair.

“I hope you have an owner somewhere,” said Lily as she drained the tub. The dog shook himself all over her. “I don’t want to put you up in a shelter where they might put you to sleep, but I _can’t_ keep you here for too long. Richard already puts up with Mosley as it is; if I start my own pet rescue I suspect he’ll put his foot down.”

“ _Arf_ ,” he replied. Lily fancied that the bark sounded inquisitive.

“You’ll meet Richard tonight,” she explained absently. “He’s very nice, but not much a pet lover.”

She grabbed one of the fresh towels from her cupboard and put it on the linoleum tiles. With another towel she began wiping down the sopping wet dog.

“If I let you downstairs, you have to promise not to bother Mosley,” Lily said. “He’s gotten quite comfortable being the only pet around and I don’t want to upset him. Don’t chase him again; that’ll put you out of the house faster than anything. He’s my only friend in the world, you see, and I can’t have him hating me.”

It was nice, talking to the dog as though he understood. Lily was beginning to see the appeal of a dog—whereas Mosley often exuded an air of indifference, this dog was staring fixedly at her with large, understanding eyes that she couldn’t help but confess to.

Even as Lily went through a list of tasks she would have to undergo in the next day—a trip to the vet, dog food, a leash and collar, not to mention toys—she didn’t feel overwhelmed at the thought. The dog was a different sort of companion than Mosley.

He might even be good for her.

“I’ll have to figure out what to call you,” she murmured.

The dog licked her cheek in cheerful response.

 

* * *

 

**III**

 

“We can’t keep him,” Richard said after dinner the next night.

Lily had been in the middle of arguing the dog’s case for permanent residence, and she shut her mouth with a glare, leaning back into the couch with one hand still on the dog’s soft head.

“He’s surprisingly well-trained for a stray, I’ll give you that,” he continued, “But Lily, we can’t…you know why we can’t.”

“I like him,” she retaliated. “Besides, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of everything around here, just like I always do.”

Richard’s eyebrows went up. “There’s no need to be rude.”

“It’s true, and you know it,” Lily shot back. “I’m expected to take care of everything, just sit around the house all day while you go out and have… _friends_.”

He looked slightly ashamed.

“I understand this isn’t fair for you,” he acknowledged, “but we can’t have a dog.”

“Can’t I have anything for myself?” snapped Lily. She pet the dog’s soft ears, hoping he wouldn’t shy away from her harsh tone.

“Lily, Paul is allergic to dogs,” said Richard. He gave her such an earnest yet somehow _pathetic_ look that Lily knew, she _knew_ that no matter what she said or if she got down on her knees and begged it wouldn’t make the slightest difference.

Just like everything else that had ever made her happy, that she’d ever wanted, this dog was not destined to stay.

She glared at Richard, knowing that really it _wasn’t_ his fault; they were both stuck in a life they hadn’t wanted. But at least Richard got to keep something for himself. At least Richard didn’t have to hide who he was.

“I’ll help you put up flyers tomorrow,” he offered after a minute. “We’ll go around the neighborhood and let everyone know about this dog, and if we don’t find his owner I’m sure there will be someone who wants him.”

His tone was very reassuring, but the words failed to live up to his intentions.

Lily didn’t answer, and eventually Richard got up from his armchair and headed upstairs to his bedroom. He shot a half-hearted “goodnight” as he went, to which she didn’t respond.

It was only when she heard the door to his room shut that Lily slid to the floor. She wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck and buried her face in the fur around his collar. The dog seemed to understand; he propped his chin on her shoulder and sat very still.

She didn’t cry.

The days of Lily’s tears had long past. She never let them fall, no matter how much they might try. It was a small victory against her lot, but even small victories made the difference between monotony and misery.

Lily didn’t know how long she sat there with the dog, but at some point she stood up dusted off her trousers, and looked down at him.

“You’ll be spending the night with me,” she told him. “Let’s make the best of a bad situation, yes?”

The dog wagged his tail in response.

She smiled at him. Mosley could sleep somewhere besides her bed for one night, at least.

 

* * *

 

Richard didn’t keep his promise.

In the end, Lily was the one who went around Cokeworth neighborhoods, stapling posters that read:

“Dog found. No known owner, very friendly, please call Mr and Mrs Richard Beauchamp for details. If no owner steps forward, please contact about adoption.”

Lily hadn’t a camera so none of the flyers had a picture of the dog itself, but she had brought him along to keep her company. Before leaving the house she’d conjured a leash and collar for him which he had _not_ liked.

She was in a supremely foul mood, most of it directed toward Richard who had at the last moment realised he was to have tea with his mother and sister. She wasn’t entirely sure if she believed him, and in her irritation was convinced that he’d invented the whole thing spur-of-the-moment so that he wouldn’t have to work at all.

In the mid-afternoon Lily gave up altogether and walked home, her feet sore and blistering. She hoped Richard wouldn’t be at the house—she wanted to heal her blisters and wasn’t keen to wait until her husband went to sleep.

“I hate Paul,” she announced to the dog. When she glanced down at his large, earnest eyes, Lily sighed. “I don’t hate Paul,” she amended, “but I wish he didn’t always come first. I’m not expecting Richard to love me, but he could at least respect me.”

She grimaced at a signpost for Miners Court, where Paul lived with his sister Molly. Paul didn’t have to marry anyone, unlike her and Richard. Paul didn’t have to put on a façade just to pass by in life; no one in their right minds would spread rumors about Mrs Kern’s grandson around town, even if they happened to be true.

The younger daughter of the Evans family who attended a mysterious school in Scotland, or the only Beauchamp boy who never dated anyone, on the other hand, might as well be open season for the gossiping wives of Cokeworth.

“Honestly,” Lily told the dog, “if I’d known what I was signing on for when I agreed to this whole marriage thing, I would have run straight to London and gotten a flat with my schoolmates.”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, over a lukewarm dinner minutes from turning bad, Richard apologised for leaving her alone. As was the standard between them, Lily said she forgave him.

Her “forgiveness” didn’t stop her from dropping scraps of meat on the floor for the dog in a very obvious manner, which the dog reveled in. Richard grimaced at some of the more exuberant displays from the dog but seemed to realise he was in no position to protest.

A part of her was ashamed to be torturing Richard so…but a larger, more vindictive part enjoyed lashing out at _someone_ , even if it was over something like a dog she’d only known for two days.

Despite her satisfaction, Lily went to bed feeling hollow. She had the dog follow her upstairs to sleep on her bed again. He’d been a comforting presence the night before and if Lily had never needed a comforting presence, this was the best night for one.

“Let’s make the best of this, shall we?” she asked the dog, who wagged his tail before hopping up on her bed. “I’m going to take a shower, and then we’ll go to bed.”

The dog flopped onto his stomach and stared up at her with warm eyes, tongue lolling out. She suppressed a wince at the drops of drool coming out his mouth and headed into her bathroom. Even though she had no reason to hide anything from the dog, Lily shut the door and, after a few seconds’ thought, locked it.

Twenty-five minutes later, she was quite glad to have done it, because when Lily stepped out of her bathroom with wet hair and her soft bathrobe on, she let out a high-pitched shriek that hurt even her own ears.

Distantly, she heard a door open and footsteps coming toward her down the hall.

Richard rapped on her door. “Lily? What is it?”

She didn’t answer, still staring at the bed. Lily wrapped her arms across her chest tightly.

“Lily?” a brief pause. “Should I come in?”

“It’s alright,” she called to Richard through the door. “Just a spider. I killed it.” Her eyes didn’t leave her bed.

“Alright,” Richard said after a minute. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

Lily waited until she heard him shuffle back to his room and shut the door before hissing angrily, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing on my _bed?_ ”

“Well, you invited me to sleep on it,” answered Sirius Black.


	2. IV-V

**IV**

 

“I beg your pardon?” gasped Lily.

Sirius was on his side, his head propped up by one arm and the other arm draped gracefully along his body. He looked as posed as a model without any apparent effort. In the years since Lily had last seen Sirius he had grown even more handsome, if such a thing was possible.

If she hadn’t been so shocked by his appearance, Lily would have resented him.

“You said you’d take a shower and then we’d go to bed,” he told her. Merlin’s beard, was he _pouting?_ “Here I was, looking forward to another night of cuddling—”

“What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Oh, _Lily_ ,” he sighed, rolling over so that he was on his back, propped up by his elbows. It only made him more attractive, damn him. “Lily, we spent the entire day bonding; how could you forget? We walked, we talked, we shared a dinner together—pity that other one had to tag along. Did you wash away your memories of me along with the day’s dirt?”

She stared at him.

“You’re the dog!”

“Guilty,” Sirius agreed, sitting upright at last.

“You’re an animagus?” Lily continued somewhat hesitantly.

“Also guilty!” he laughed. “Be honest; the last two days, didn’t I seem familiar to you?”

Lily rubbed her forehead. “I don’t understand.”

Sirius flopped back onto the bed—suddenly, he was a dog, _the_ dog—and just as suddenly he was Sirius Black, looking up at her with a mixture of expectation and smugness.

Falling back into old habits with Sirius was surprisingly easy. Lily reached toward her dresser and grabbed the closest thing to her, which happened to be a framed photograph, and chucked it hard toward his head.

He caught it with only a little bit of surprise. “Lily, that’s not how you treat a guest,” he scolded with that infuriating smile of his. “Especially one you took a bath with.”

For a moment Lily felt a rush of anger toward Sirius, realising all the times she’d been indecent in front of him without her knowledge. Then she began to giggle.

“You played with a rubber duck!” she managed to gasp.

Sirius glared at her, his cheeks a bit pink. “I was acting like a dog.”

“That’s for certain,” she remarked, a hand to her mouth. For the life of her, Lily couldn’t stop imagining Sirius as he was now running around on all fours, chasing Mosley through her house. “Why on earth did you act so silly for so long though?”

“Well, I couldn’t believe it was you!” he answered. He sat up earnestly, no longer posturing for effect.

“Didn’t you recognise me?” Lily wondered in surprise.

“I _recognised_ you, yeah,” said Sirius, “but I’d never thought I’d find you living as a Muggle—a housewife, no less!”

Lily shifted, crossing her arms over her chest again. “What’s so wrong about living as a Muggle? Are you saying that’s not as good as being a witch?”

“Don’t be sour, you know I don’t think that way,” he said. “You’ve loved magic since the day you arrived at Hogwarts; what am I supposed to think? And if I ever _did_ think you might put away your wand, I’d fancy you running a town or the country or something. Did you give it all up for that twat?”

She squinted down at her feet. “That’s none of your business.”

He scoffed. “Oh, really, Evans? Him, that Richard fellow? You don’t even sleep together!”

“Look, I’m not Lily Evans anymore, all right?” snapped Lily. “I’m Mrs Lily Beauchamp. And you can’t stay here any longer.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Sirius leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “When you picked me up I was on a very important surveillance mission—”

“You were eating from a rubbish bin.”

“I was undercover,” he explained with a surprising amount of dignity. “It’s great to see you, it really is, but I can’t go off and live with some Muggle family for the next five years.”

“So leave,” suggested Lily, although the thought filled her with a panicked loneliness. “That would solve all our problems.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think your precious _Richard_ would notice?” his eyes lit up; Lily could almost see the lightbulb go on above his head. That light had always been a sign of danger and she couldn’t imagine much had changed in the past two years. “We could have someone come get me.”

“Or I could just tell him someone came and got you,” she pointed out.

“No, if he sees someone take me away he won’t have any questions,” he waved her off. “It’s perfect. No muss, no fuss. I just need a way to Disapparate from here.”

“I made the house Apparition-proof,” she said, “but why don’t you just Disapparate and don’t come back? Surely that’s more complicated than it needs to be.”

“So we’re agreed,” Sirius went on, completely ignoring her. “I’ll just go outside and—”

“We are _not_ agreed—”

“—find the right person to come get me tomorrow.”

Lily threw up her hands. “Fine. I know better than to argue with your silly ideas, though once you realise how unnecessarily complicated this whole thing has become I expect an apology.”

“Hurry up and get dressed then,” he urged.

“Beg pardon?”

“Take me out on a walk,” Sirius said, as if this were a perfectly obvious conclusion she was to have drawn. “We’ll go to a park and I’ll Disapparate.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “ _Fine_. Get in the bathroom and don’t you dare come out while I get changed.”

 

* * *

 

Despite constant hints and outright declarations that Sirius’ plan was ridiculous, Lily didn’t manage to get through to him.

 She wouldn’t admit it, but his stupid idea actually made her happy—she got to spend even a few more hours in the company of a friend, and it wasn’t until Sirius Disapparated behind some bushes that she realised how much she’d missed him since Hogwarts.

So even after waiting in the cold night air for half an hour, hoping no one would walk past and wonder what she was doing out so late, Lily was glad to have Sirius come home with her. It helped that he remained a dog and slept on her cold feet during the night.

She couldn’t sleep for hours after they got back, staring up at the ceiling and remembering how she met Sirius Black, how they got to know each other, became friends with one another…the last time she saw Sirius in person, and the last time she saw a photograph of him.

And then her thoughts turned to that article, the one his picture had been in, and Lily’s heart lurched into a pain she couldn’t put into words.

…

Breakfast was a slow affair. Lily had only slept for three-and-a-half hours, waking up far earlier than she would have liked when Sirius had come up and licked her face until she pushed him aside. Even as a dog, kisses from Sirius Black were unwanted.

“Is your person coming to get you this morning?” she’d asked him in between brushing her hair and making up her bed.

His only response had been a wagging of his tail, which Lily found to be entirely unhelpful. It was just as possible that he was showing his approval over Lily’s nightgown as answering her question.

But just in case someone _was_ coming by, Lily had thrown on a nice patterned skirt and blouse and low-rise heels and dashed on some light make-up. Sirius sat watching her the entire time, and she ignored his knowing stare.

Lily served oatmeal that morning, not willing to fry up anything. Even after learning the dog she’d fought so hard to keep was really Sirius, a part of her still resented Richard all the same. In any case, she was tired and wanted to do as little work as possible.

Sirius made a few disgruntled sounds throughout breakfast that clearly indicated his displeasure, which she responded to by taking the leftovers from the previous night’s dinner and putting them on the floor.

Thankfully, he finished slobbering all over her floor and kitchenware by the time Richard came down, done up in his usual suit and tie and his briefcase swinging wildly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Richard asked as he shoveled some oatmeal into a bowl. He sat down, perched on the edge of his seat, and spooned large amounts into his mouth. He resembled a well-dressed chipmunk.

“I didn’t realise you weren’t awake,” she pointed out.

“I’m going to be late for work,” he grunted through a mouthful. “Mr Clements is going to butcher me.”

“Is that my fault?” Lily asked, her tone indicating quite clearly she didn’t think so.

Richard made an exasperated growl and swallowed. “I’m not angry with you, Lily,” he snapped. “I’m just in a hurry, alright?”

Lily shrugged and put a hand on Sirius’ head. “Alright.”

She watched him finish his oatmeal. Richard’s last bites were over the sink as he kept trying to put down the bowl while still eating from it, a habit of his she’d found entertaining when they were teenagers. Since living with Richard, this habit had lost some of its appeal for her.

He wiped his mouth on a towel and ran his fingers under the tap for a few seconds, using the same towel to try his hands. Lily hid her displeasure at this and waved at Richard as he picked up his briefcase and dashed from the kitchen.

“He’s not usually like that,” Lily explained to Sirius in an undertone. He just looked up at her, unusually still.

“He isn’t,” she repeated as she heard the doorbell ring.

Sirius jumped to his feet. His tail started wagging furiously, so hard that his entire lower body was swaying back and forth. He opened his mouth and his tongue lolled out. If dogs could smile, Lily would swear Sirius was grinning.

“Is that them?” asked Lily.

He started to pace, a low whine in the back of his throat.

“Darling, could you come to the door, please?” Richard called through the house. “And bring the dog, if you will.”

They only ever called each other “darling” if someone who didn’t know about the arrangement between Richard and Lily showed up.

She stood, brushing at her blouse and skirt with vague self-consciousness. Sirius lost his patience and barreled forward, barking in excitement.

Lily hurried after him, saying, “I’m so sorry, he’s just so excited—” She pulled up short and stared.

“Lily, darling, this is the dog’s owner,” said Richard, gesturing to their guest in the foyer. “Mr…er…”

“Potter,” the guest finished, looking—and sounding—as stunned by Lily’s presence as she was by his. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Yes, well, I’ve got to run,” Richard said absently. He grabbed his keys and squeezed past James Potter in a panic, leaving Lily alone with the last person she’d ever expected to see in her house.

 

* * *

 

**V**

 

(1977)

“Evans, you’re looking awful fit in that skirt,” Sirius hollered across the courtyard.

Lily shook her head, suppressing a smile but not quite managing to hide her blush. “You think anyone in a skirt looks fit,” she called back.

Sirius sauntered over to her, hands in pockets and a cocky, carefree grin on his face. James Potter shuffled along behind him with his head down. “Not true, Evans, not true,” Sirius said. He tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Only the ones with some spectacular legs.”

“Are you looking at my legs?” she replied, glancing at James. He wasn’t looking at her or Sirius, and his head hung so low that his glasses were in danger of slipping off. He tugged at the hem of his untucked shirt.

“Who isn’t these days?” said Sirius with a generous scan up and down the length of her body.

Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you can see anything behind that hair of yours. Potter, isn’t it your job to keep this one well-groomed?”

“He’s very concerned with his grooming habits,” James answered in his usual almost-mumble, looking up with a slight smirk. “I’d rather not get in between Sirius and his vanity.”

“You’re just jealous you’re not as handsome as I am,” his friend shot back. “It’s a job to keep my hair this attractive. Evans and I know how hard it is to be extremely good-looking people, don’t we, Evans?”

She hesitated, glancing between Sirius and James. “You’re being far too silly to talk with,” she finally decided. “I’ve got an essay to write, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Come off it, you know I’m right,” Sirius dismissed her excuse with a wave of his hand. “This one doesn’t know the first thing about looking good.”

“He does alright,” she defended James, though she didn’t dare look at him. Her cheeks could fry an egg. “You just can’t see, you know, because of the hair.”

Sirius snorted and tossed his hair yet again. “Birds love this look.”

She gave him a long, hard look and then pursed her lips with slow deliberation. “Nah, it’s not working for me.”

James chuckled and her heart skipped a beat.

Sirius gasped at her. “Well, you’ve got bad taste, haven’t you?”

“I’ve got to go, Sirius,” Lily reminded him, and turned smartly on her heel.

He followed her, and when Lily glanced around she saw that James had stayed in the courtyard, watching them. He ducked his head and shuffled off when Lily caught his eye.

“Well isn’t that something?”

“Excuse me?” she turned her head back to a very smug Sirius.

He pointed at the courtyard, walking backward alongside her as if it were the easiest thing. “You’re all googly-eyed over my mate Potter.”

 

* * *

 

Lily didn’t move until she heard Richard’s car screeching onto the street. Her whole body trembled—she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

That was a lie; she wanted to reach out and touch his face, take off his glasses and look into his eyes to see _what kind of person—_

“Hi,” James blurted out.

“Hello,” she answered warily.

He shoved his hands into his pockets for a moment, and then pulled them out again. With one hand he tugged on the hem of his shirt and with the other ruffled up his hair. It was so _James_ that her stomach lurched and she wanted to scream at him.

“Sirius didn’t say anything about you being here,” he told her, gesturing to where Sirius, still a dog, sat with a lolling tongue. “He just said that someone had nabbed him and to come get him.”

“Right,” said Lily. She stepped forward and carefully closed the door—careful, because she didn’t want to touch him. Careful, because she couldn’t have the neighbors see. She turned back to James. “How have you been?”

“Fine, I suppose,” he said. “How…er, how about you?”

Lily pursed her lips. “Married.”

He glanced around the house. “Right, right. That was, er, _Richard_ , wasn’t it?”

She couldn’t read him. Lily had always been able to read James Potter like a book.

“Yes, that’s right. Richard.”

James whirled on the spot and turned his back to her. He strode over the mantelpiece over the fireplace and picked up a photo, turning it over in his hands.

“I forgot; Muggle pictures don’t move,” he murmured. One finger trailed down the side of the photo frame hesitantly.

Lily moved forward a few paces, stopping to glare at Sirius and his stupid wagging tail for a moment. How could he do this to her? What did he think was going to happen—and shouldn’t he know better, of all people?

The picture in James’ hand was one of Lily, Petunia, and their mother.

Her breath caught. She remembered the day they’d taken that photograph; it was two days after Christmas in Lily’s seventh year. Her mother had been so full of colour then, and every time Lily saw Mrs Evans afterward she’d been a faded echo.

“How’s your mum?” asked James quietly.

“She passed away,” Lily told him. “November of ’78. At least she got to see me get married.”

James put down the picture frame very suddenly and Lily jumped at the sound.

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, somewhat abruptly. “I…I know you and she were close.”

A faint panic started building in her, so small at first that she only knew it was there because she’d been waiting for it since the moment she saw him.

“Would you like a tour of the house?” Lily suggested. She needed him to say yes, he _had_ to say yes…

“Erm…sure, alright,” he agreed, shrugging.

She nodded, only the slightest bit relieved. “This is, er…this is the sitting room, here. And, er, right through here is—”

Lily turned on her heel and swept into the rarely-used dining room, glancing behind her every two seconds to see if he was following. Her neck ached a little from the abuse.

James walked past her and to the long table, brushing his fingers along the polished oak. He looked down at the chair.

“Well, hello, Mosley.”

Lily’s cat made a soft grunt in response, lifting one paw toward James’ hand. He obliged by petting Mosley, who immediately began purring.

For the first time since she saw James Potter in her foyer, Lily had some doubt. If James remembered Mosley, and more importantly, if Mosley knew _James_ …

“This old sport’s been with you the entire time, hasn’t he?”

“Since third year,” Lily answered softly.

Never mind.

“Oh, that’s right.”

“Here’s the kitchen,” she murmured, moving again.

It was in a state of disarray; Lily had forgotten. She led James through this room hastily, only pausing to gesture at the back door. The floor plan looped around again into the sitting room, and Lily walked up to the stairs.

“That’s Richard’s study,” she said, pointing at the door on the other side of the sitting room. “We don’t allow visitors in there.”

She started walking up the stairs, fully expecting James to follow. After making it halfway up the steps, she realised hers were the only footsteps. Lily turned back.

“You look very lovely here,” James mumbled.

With a lurch in her stomach, Lily saw he was pointing to her wedding photo.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Er…shall we?”

“How did you meet Richard?”

“I’ve always known Richard,” said Lily, crossing her arms uncomfortably. “We grew up together. He, Petunia and I were all friends. Our mums were friends.”

“I see,” said James. He grimaced. “I see.”

Lily didn’t want to talk about Richard. “Shall we?” she suggested, inclining her head to the second floor landing.

“Right,” he muttered, and wrenched his gaze from that damned wedding photograph.

She went directly to her room. It was hard for Lily not to run, or even walk hastily. What she wanted was to sprint the rest of the way and just get the whole ordeal over with.

But she couldn’t.

“This is my room,” she said, opening the door. “I’ve got some school photos on my dresser, there—” Lily let James go ahead of her. He headed straight for the pictures, just as she hoped, with his back to her. She walked to her bed and bent down, stretching out a hand.

“That’s from sixth year, isn’t it?” he said. “I recognise the stupid haircut Georgie had.”

“Yeah, it was,” Lily agreed, standing back up. “Though I don’t know how you’d know that.”

“Pardon?”

James began to turn around, but Lily put her wand in the soft spot between his ear and jawline. She pressed _hard_.

“Lily—”

“It’s strange,” she continued, a tear rolling down her cheek, “That you’d remember anything from sixth year. You see, I know that James Potter died a year ago. So who the hell are you?”


	3. VI-VIII

**VI**

 

“Lily,” the fake James said quietly, “It’s me. It really is.”

“Don’t _lie to me!_ ” she yelled, another tear escaping. “I know he’s dead! Just because I’m living as a Muggle doesn’t mean I’m clueless!”

He raised his arms in the air slowly, showing her his empty hands. “I swear to you, I am James Potter.”

“Oh, so I suppose ten witnesses and three Aurors all got the facts wrong?” snapped Lily. “James Potter was killed in the Battle of Diagon Alley alongside Sarah Drake and Peter Pettigrew. It was headline news for over a week in _The Daily Prophet_. There was a funeral!”

“There was a redaction,” the fake James said soothingly. She wanted to rip all his hair out, hair that should only belong to James and not this liar in front of her. “Two months later, the _Prophet_ printed a redaction of my death announcement. I was held in captivity for—”

“Shut up,” she said angrily.

“Lily,” he began.

“No, don’t say another _word!_ Don’t you dare use his voice!” She was crying freely now, something she had not done since reading of James’ death.

The fake James locked his hands behind his head. “Why would Sirius have me come here if I were an impostor?” he mumbled quietly.

“You’ve tricked him,” Lily hissed. She jabbed her wand into his neck a little bit harder. “He couldn’t accept James had died and you tricked him. Because he wanted to believe you. Because it was easier. Of course you tricked him; Sirius has never been good at letting things go.”

“Lily, I swear to you, if you just let me explain how—”

“I’m not Sirius,” she went on. Her voice broke a little. “I’ve had a year to come to terms with James’ death. You can’t fool me so easily.”

She stepped back and flicked her wand. It was as though an invisible hook grabbed him by the ankle and dangled the fake James in mid-air. Lily hadn’t used _levicorpus_ in years and his head scraped the carpeted floor of her bedroom. His shirt slipped halfway down his chest, revealing a line of hair from his belly button to below the waistline of his blue jeans. Whoever this was, they’d gone to great lengths to replicate James Potter’s body.

“Oy!” he shouted. “Cut it out!”

“Who are you?” she shot back.

“Lily, come off it, I’m James!”

“Stop saying that!”

“Lily, what are you doing?”

She turned her head and saw Sirius in the doorway. He was glancing between her and James with a decidedly worried frown.

“He’s not James,” she explained, as gently as she could manage. “He might have told you some story about captivity, but James Potter is dead. Somewhere you know that, deep down.”

Sirius took a step forward. “Put James down, Lily,” he said in a soothing, cautious voice. Lily couldn’t help but feel insulted at his tone, though she knew he was labouring under a delusion. “It’s really him.”

“He isn’t James,” Lily repeated. She wiped at her wet cheeks.

“I am!” the fake James shouted. His face was red from all the blood rushing to his head.

“We were suspicious too,” Sirius reassured her. “When he came back, we put him through loads of tests. He has the same Patronus. He knows things only James would know.” He hesitated for a moment. “He’s an animagus, just like me. His animal form hasn’t changed. You know as well as I do that animagi can’t be impersonated in their animal form.”

This gave Lily pause. “Him too?” she asked, lowering her wand. She released the (possibly) fake James, who crumpled to the floor.

“Yes,” said Sirius, visibly relieved. “I’ve personally seen him change.”

Lily looked back and forth between the two men, her heart hammering. She _wanted_ to believe Sirius—living in a world without James Potter was dull and colourless. From the minute she had read of his death Lily had wanted some magic to bring him back. And yet she had made that knowledge part of her identity, much as James alive had been part of her.

“Prove it,” she blurted out.

James glared up at her from the floor. “I was trying to before,” he grumbled. “Ask me anything.”

Lily opened her mouth, ready to ask, and then closed it. She turned to Sirius. “Could you leave us alone for a moment?”

Sirius frowned warily. “Are you going to dangle him by his ankle again?”

“Probably not,” she said, gripping her wand tightly. “If he’s not James, though—”

“Look, if I’m not James Potter, I’ll use _levicorpus_ on myself,” James grumbled as he stood up.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her but turned and walked out of Lily’s bedroom, albeit rather slowly. Lily waited until she heard him on the stairs before turning back to James.

“In seventh year, after you won the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff,” she said abruptly. Her voice shook a little. “What happened that night?”

James’ irritated expression dropped, and she saw a look in his eyes that she’d only ever seen once before—on the night of which she spoke. And she knew, right down to the core of her, in every small space of her body, that this was James Potter.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Nothing happened.”

Lily burst into tears again, but this time a smile stretched at her cheeks.

 

* * *

 

“What were you even doing in Cokeworth?” Lily asked Sirius an hour later, pouring tea into the china cup she’d placed before him. “You told me it was an important mission.”

The two men sat at her tiny kitchen table as she served up tea and the rest of her reheated oatmeal from breakfast. Sirius, who had already eaten the leftover dinner she’d served him when he was in dog form, had abandoned his bowl and was dangling a piece of string above a playful Mosley.

“That’s secret,” Sirius answered distractedly.

“I might understand a secret mission if it were in London,” she said, “but nothing ever happens in Cokeworth.” She sat down across from James.

It was rather difficult to stop staring at him; now that Lily knew for certain that it was really, truly James Potter in front of her and not an imposter, she couldn’t help but to examine every miniscule feature. He’d grown more handsome in the past two years, less gangly and unsure on his own feet. The way he sat, the way he held his shoulders… Lily felt eighteen all over again. She turned her attentions back to Sirius.

“Well, you must know why,” he replied, twirling the string around. Mosley kicked at it with his back feet.

“I really don’t,” Lily confessed. “I can’t imagine what you might find in this place.”

“You grew up with Snape,” James mumbled. Lily snapped her gaze back to him. “We’ve been looking for him for weeks, and I heard you saying once that he lives on Spinner’s End.”

She put her chin in her hand. “Oh, Merlin,” she said, pursing her lips. “How long have you been here, Sirius?”

“Almost two weeks,” he said.

Lily sighed. “I’m afraid you’ve been wasting your time,” she told them gently.

“If you’re trying to protect him, Lily, you should know he’s killed a lot of people,” James told her, sounding rather angry. “Most of them Muggles whom he tortured beforehand. He needs to be brought in.”

“I’m not arguing with that,” she said defensively. “I know what he’s become! I only meant that Severus Snape wouldn’t be caught dead in Cokeworth.”

Sirius dropped the string into Mosley’s waiting claws and sat up with renewed attentiveness. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The only reasons Severus ever came back home on holidays were for me or his mother,” Lily explained, embarrassed to be admitting such a thing in front of James. “We’re no longer friends, and his mother died a while back. Only his father is left, and there is no one Severus hates more than his father.”

She gave them both hard looks, letting them know that statement included them. Even with all the antics between the boys in school, sometimes bordering on violent abuse, Lily hadn’t ever seen evidence that either Sirius or James had surpassed Tobias Snape.

James glanced down at his oatmeal in mild shame.

Sirius grimaced. “Well, Moody will be right pissed about all this,” he announced. “Do you have any idea where he might be hiding out, if not here?”

“I don’t,” she said icily, “since we haven’t spoken in years.”

“No, I know, but if there are any places you two used when you were kids—”

“She said she doesn’t know, Padfoot,” James interrupted. Lily tried to catch his gaze; he stared determinedly at his oatmeal.

Sirius stood. “Right. Lily, it’s been great catching up. Stay in touch?”

“Sure,” she agreed.

He nodded at James before exiting through the back door. Lily imagined he could find his own way to leave—after he realised her back yard was also Apparition-proof.

James continued eating at his usual slow, deliberate pace for some time. He avoided her eyes but kept glancing at her hands. Lily wanted desperately for him to say something, _anything_ , but she waited. Her body kept shaking and she didn’t trust her voice to remain steady. It had betrayed her once already this morning.

She sipped her tea to keep herself from blurting something out.

It wasn’t until James finished his bowl of oatmeal that he spoke. “Why didn’t you read the redaction in _The Daily Prophet?_ ”

Lily blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You said upstairs that you read about my death in _The Daily Prophet_ ,” he explained, scrutinising the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table. “I don’t understand how you missed the redaction.”

“Oh.” She pushed at her unused spoon. “I…er, I cancelled my subscription. About a week after that article said you died.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There was more silence between them.

After a few minutes James stood up, clearing his throat. “I should go,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to get back to work. Now that we know Snape isn’t here, I’ve got to find other places to look.”

“Right,” said Lily, getting to her feet as well. “Looks like there’s no need for you…or Sirius to stay in Cokeworth any longer.”

“No, I suppose not,” James agreed. “Take care, Lily.” He began to leave the kitchen.

“James!” she called out hastily.

He turned back and finally looked her in the eye. Her heart skipped a beat and made up for it with a giant _thump_. Her knees tried to buckle.

“I…I’m really glad you’re not dead,” Lily managed to say amidst the chaos of her reactions.

James smiled. “Me too,” he said, and left.

She didn’t let herself slump back into her seat until the front door had opened and closed.

 

* * *

 

**VII**

 

After the brief excitement from re-immersing herself in the Wizarding world, Lily found the return to normalcy in Cokeworth even more tedious, if such a thing were possible. Every conversation she held in town was stale and uninteresting; at home, she barely spoke to Richard.

It was a week before her silence broke—through desperation and an overwhelming loneliness, Lily left her house in the middle of the day and walked down the length of Packer Street. The sunshine was entirely too bright and she squinted all the while, wishing she’d put on a hat or something. She didn’t retreat, though. If she turned back, Lily knew she’d lose her nerve altogether.

Though she hadn’t returned to her childhood home in months (almost a year, now that she thought about it), her feet carried her along the well-trod path to the Evans’ house.

The front lawn was unkempt and all tangled up in weeds and old garden gnomes with missing noses. Lily could easily imagine Petunia’s horrified expression, should she see the state their home had fallen into. Unlike Lily, Petunia had taken up their mother’s love of gardening and then gone one step further, to the point of near obsession.

Lily took a deep breath before heading up the driveway and climbing the porch steps. She knocked on the front door loudly.

No response.

Well, she had been expecting that. Lily sighed and glanced out at the derelict lawn, wondering if she ought to just walk away. The thought filled her with an aching misery that forced her to turn back and knock again, harder.

“Dad?” she called through the wood. “Dad, it’s Lily. Are you there?”

She knew he was; Michael Evans didn’t leave his house for anything or anyone. He hadn’t for nearly two years.

“Dad,” Lily repeated. “Dad, I’m coming in.”

The other side of the door remained quiet. Lily turned the doorknob and found it unlocked, and was unsure if she should be worried or not. She pushed the door open and was met with the sounds of tinny cheering from a small speaker. She let herself in and shut the door softly behind her.

The hallways lights were dim. It probably did a service to the interior of the house, masking the worst of the clutter and dilapidation in dark corners. Lily wrinkled her nose at the musky, stuffy odour of canned tuna and made her way forward.

She turned into the sitting room, where the sound was loudest, and saw her father slumped in his armchair in front of the telly. A whistle blew shrilly through the speakers.

“Dad?” Lily said hesitantly.

Michael Evans looked up. A smile stretched on his face with hollow conviction. “Lily, my dear,” he answered in a tone close to warm. “What are you doing here?”

“I knocked,” she told him, awkwardly playing with the folds of her skirt. “You didn’t answer.”

“Mhmm?” her father said absently. His eyes focused for a moment. “Sorry, darling. Come sit with me; West Ham is playing. I really think they’ll win this time.”

Lily bit her lip and looked at the ratty couch he was gesturing toward. She hadn’t remembered it being so unclean from her last visit.

“Dad, isn’t Martha Regis supposed to come by and clean?” she asked.

“Ah, well, she does what she can, but she’s just had another baby, see,” Mr Evans murmured. His gaze was fixed back on the little screen. “Don’t like to bother her with all the mess.”

“Dad,” she began, and sighed. “Alright, what’s the score?” She sat down gingerly. It wasn’t the way of the Evans women to live in an unclean home, and even sitting on an unclean couch unsettled her, but her father wouldn’t take kindly to her barging in and tidying up without so much as a “hello.”

“Nothing yet,” he reported. “There’s just been a foul, lining up to take the penalty shot now.”

“I see that.”

Lily watched a bit of the game. In all honesty, football had lost its appeal right around the time she’d seen her first Quidditch match at school, and once her friend Hannah had taken her to see the Wimbourne Wasps play against the Ballycastle Bats there really was no point to Muggle sports for Lily ever again. But her father loved football, and Lily loved her father.

“I saw a friend from school last week,” she said after a while.

Mr Evans half-turned his head toward her. “What’s that, darling?”

“A friend from school,” Lily repeated. “Well, two friends, but I suppose only one of them was actually a friend of mine.”

“From Hogwarts?”

“Yes, dad, from Hogwarts.”

Michael Evans looked right at her. “Did you go somewhere?”

“No, they came here.”

He looked confused. “What were they doing in Cokeworth?” his eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t that Snape boy, was it?”

“Why does everyone think I’m still mates with Severus?” Lily sighed irritably. “No, it wasn’t ‘that Snape boy.’ It was someone from my House. Did I ever tell you about Sirius Black?”

“Hmm…Sirius Black…I think so. Bit of a ponce, didn’t you say?”

“I probably did,” Lily admitted. “He’s a right old flirt, but he’s a good friend to have. Anyway, we were talking about magic and what’s going on in the Wizarding world and…I dunno. I miss all that. I miss it so much, Dad.”

Her father turned down the sound on the telly. “Still?”

Lily felt a little flash of anger at him. “Yes, _still_.” He sighed very loudly, which only irritated her more. “It wasn’t just for school, Dad; magic is my life.”

“Yes, but darling, you can’t just cast spells for the rest of your life,” he said in a reasonable tone. “At some point, you’ve got to be an adult and make real decisions.”

“I hardly think playing house with Richard is being an adult,” she pointed out. “I could’ve gotten a very real job in the Wizarding world.”

It wasn’t the first time Lily had discussed this with her father—far from it, actually—and she highly suspected it wouldn’t be the last. Though enthusiastic about her magical talents, her father had never really understood the true value in a magical education. She knew he imagined it as a fanciful addition to her skills, much like learning to sew or decline nouns in Latin, and not as a pathway to a career.

“Do you want to get a job, sweetheart?” Mr Evans asked placatingly. “I don’t think Richard would mind, he’s a rather modern gentleman, considering his family—”

“Forget it,” Lily snapped. She immediately regretted her tone. “I mean, how would I explain that to Richard?”

“Ah, that’s right,” he agreed. “He didn’t take well to it the first time, did he?”

She shook her head, remembering the day she’d come home to find Richard flipping through her newly purchased copy of _Advanced Transfiguration_ in horror. Lily had been forced to modify his memory, which in turn had earned her a very strict letter from the Ministry of Magic along with a hit-wizard inquiry in the matter of her under-age magic in the presence of a Muggle.

There was no way Lily would ever reveal the truth to Richard, not after that incident. Some people just weren’t able to relearn everything they knew about the world, and although Lily kept Richard’s secret she didn’t dare trust him with her own.

“Lily. Lily, darling?”

She blinked and came back into the moment. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you came here for something in particular,” her father said, looking concerned. The irony almost made her laugh.

Almost.

“Just to talk,” she said. “I should get back; I haven’t started on dinner yet.”

“Don’t you want to see how the match turns out?” Mr Evans asked as she stood.

Lily shook her head. “That’s alright; I’ll let you enjoy the game in peace.” She started to leave, and paused when she caught sight of a pile of newspapers in the corner. “Dad, I’m going to call Martha Regis and ask her to come over more regularly. You shouldn’t be living like this.”

“I’m fine, darling,” he reassured her. “It’s only a little clutter, don’t you worry about it.”

There was a solid difference between “a little clutter” and “shambolic disrepair,” and though he didn’t know it, her father had long crossed into the latter. He might think he was fine, but from the outside looking in, Lily knew better.

“She probably needs the money, anyway,” Lily told him. “And please lock your door?”

“Of course, darling,” her father said, already refocused on the telly. “Give my best to Richard, won’t you?”

“Sure,” she muttered. “Bye, Dad.”

He didn’t answer, and after waiting nearly a minute for some sort of acknowledgement of her exit Lily gave up and hurried out of her childhood home. She nearly tripped over a large clump of weeds as she crossed through the front lawn.

Coming back here had been a mistake. Lily didn’t feel any better for it, didn’t feel any sort of relief in visiting her father or talking about magic. At the heart of it, Michael Evans was a Muggle and couldn’t understand what magic meant to Lily no matter how much he supported her.

All she’d gained from the visit was a renewed understanding that her entire life was built on lies. Lies to her parents and grandmother about Richard, lies to Richard about her life—lying all the time and never getting anything out of it.

Lily tried to think of a single enjoyable truth in her life, and when she could find nothing, she kicked at a shrub violently.

Not for the first time, she imagined how her life might have turned out had she not married Richard and had moved somewhere besides boring old Packer Street in smelly old Cokeworth.

Her thoughts didn’t linger there for too long; picking at old hurts never did anyone any good.

 

* * *

 

**VIII**

 

Lily knew her night would be an unpleasant one when Richard approached her with a nervous expression that morning. She’d seen that look before and knew the question that would follow it; it was the same question every time.

She should be grateful that at least Richard continued to ask.

“Lily,” he began, voice half an octave higher than his usual.

“Mmm?” answered Lily. She continued to make up her bed, a few drops of water from her wet hair flinging onto the sheets.

In theory, she _should_ put poor Richard out of his misery and just agree to it before he got around to asking, but Lily harboured a small fear that, should she agree once without an air of reluctance, Richard would take that as universal consent. She would take even the smallest measure of control where she could find it.

“I was hoping that…perhaps, Paul could come over tonight for dinner?” Richard smiled with an edge of hesitancy. “And Molly too, if that’s alright?”

Lily sighed, but no good would come from letting him dangle. “Under one condition,” she told him sternly.

“Of course,” he agreed instantly.

“Meg,” said Lily. “She’s not to hear a word of this, and she is _not_ invited.”

“Oh…yes, I remember you said something about—”

“Absolutely _no_ Megan,” she repeated.

Richard nodded, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Lily. Thank you so much. I really…thank you.”

He left the kitchen, and Lily resisted the urge to tear up her bedsheets.

 

* * *

 

The first time Lily had realised Richard was different was the summer after her second year, when she was thirteen and starting to notice how nice boys could be. The incident had been quite a shock to young Lily.

She’d been looking for Petunia, who had gone out with some friends. Back in the first few years of Lily’s attendance of Hogwarts, Petunia was always out with some friends. She wasn’t the most popular girl in her school but she always managed to be away when Lily was home.

Lily recalled wishing to talk to Petunia about fancying some boy at school. It was George Westfeld, who was a fourth year during Lily’s second year, also a Gryffindor, and in possession of some truly blue eyes. She fell asleep thinking of those eyes.

Petunia and Richard were in the same year of school, three years ahead of Lily, and she’d reasoned that of course Petunia would be around Richard. Their mums always talked about how the two were perfect for each other, how they were thick as thieves and would end up married with grandchildren. Lily listened to her mum and Mrs Beauchamp with wide eyes and believing ears.

Her belief was shaken once she stepped through the gate that led to the Beauchamp’s backyard. There was Richard, but Petunia was nowhere in sight.

Instead Richard was locked in a feverish, clumsy kiss with another boy. Lily hadn’t recognised him, and to this day she still hadn’t asked. Richard’s eyes were closed and he was leaning in as though he was to fall.

Lily wasn’t a stranger to kissing, but she’d never seen two boys kiss before and stared in surprise and confusion for a good while.

It simply didn’t make sense to her that Richard would kiss anyone but Petunia. She couldn’t understand what on earth this boy had that Petunia didn’t.

After a while the kiss ended, and Richard looked over to see her standing next to the house with an open mouth and wide eyes. He’d panicked, yelling at her, and the other boy had taken off over the fence faster than she could have believed.

The fear Richard had…Lily hadn’t seen anything like that on his face before, but she knew that fear. She felt that fear every time someone at school threatened her because she’d been born to Muggle parents and though she didn’t remember how they got there, Lily ended up hugging Richard tightly.

She hadn’t breathed a word of the kiss or what it meant to anyone. It was Richard’s secret and she had no right to share it. And no one should look at Richard the way pureblood students at Hogwarts looked at her.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Molly asked Lily after dinner.

They were washing dishes together, Lily washing and Molly drying. Lily could just see Paul and Richard in deep conversation outside in the gathering twilight.

“I try not to ask,” Lily replied honestly.

Molly nodded. “I can imagine. Or, perhaps I can’t.”

“It is what it is,” she said, scrubbing very hard at the deep baking pan she’d used for the roast.

“Still,” Paul’s sister pressed, “It must be uncomfortable for you. After all, you’re supposed to be the one Richard loves.”

“I don’t doubt he loves me,” said Lily. “I’ve always been like a sister to him.”

“Yes, but don’t you want something more than that?”

Lily saw James Potter’s crooked grin in her memories for the smallest moment and her cheeks warmed. “What’s with all the questions, Molly?” she retorted self-consciously.

Molly put up her hands, waving the checkered blue-and-white dishcloth like a white flag. “I didn’t mean to pry,” she defended herself. “I was just thinking, you know, how difficult this entire arrangement must be for you. It’s not so bad for Paul and I don’t think he realises how well he made out.”

“Yes, well, it’s not as though Richard has it much better,” she answered. “We both got the short end of the stick.”

Molly’s blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders as she leaned against the countertop. She contemplated Lily.

“You really hate talking about this, don’t you?” she said with a confused frown.

Lily shrugged and nearly dropped the pan. With a frustrated groan, she let the thing clatter into the sink. “I’ll clean that later,” she told Molly, “after it’s gotten a good soak.” Or rather, once she could just wave her wand and force it clean with magic.

“Lily, it’s alright to be upset,” Molly insisted. “You’ve given up much more of your life than you thought you’d have to. If I were in your shoes I’d go mad from all the lying!”

“Well it’s good you’re not in my shoes, then,” snapped Lily, and silently groaned when she saw how hurt Molly seemed. “I’m sorry, I just meant that I’m doing alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“If you’re sure,” the other woman said doubtfully.

“Yeah, it’s no bother,” she said. “Look, why don’t you head home? Those two won’t be done until much later.”

 

* * *

 

Lily regretted sending Molly home a couple of hours later, when she was in the sitting room reading a book and could hear the sounds coming from upstairs.

Paul was an obnoxiously loud lover. Or perhaps Richard enjoyed the loudness; she didn’t know. All Lily knew was that she didn’t appreciate the disruption. At least Richard tried to keep it down for her sake, but Paul remained as selfish as always.

And that was what Lily could never say to sweet, understanding Molly Kern; that her brother was self-centered and spoiled, and didn’t understand the sacrifices Richard made on his behalf.

Richard couldn’t hate Paul, not with the way he loved Paul so blindly. Lily could hate him for both their sakes and she did, usually during moments like these when Paul grunted and moaned and made his presence impossible to ignore.

Even a little part of her hated Richard during these moments, because at least he had someone to love him. Lily was alone.

She put down her book and headed through to the kitchen, where she stepped out the back door and into the backyard, breathing in the nighttime air.

All she could hear were crickets and the faint rustling of leaves in the wind, and Lily relaxed her shoulders before even noticing they were hunched up and tight in the first place.

Molly’s words sprung up in her mind again, like a burr she couldn’t shake. _“Yes, but don’t you want something more than that?_ ” And again, her thoughts turned to James Potter, the way he walked and talked (that stupid, adorable near-mumble), the fact that he was alive…

Lily collapsed into a lawn chair, putting her hands over her eyes.


	4. IX-XI

**IX**

 

The knock on her door was unexpected. Lily never received company in the middle of the day; it was always Richard they came to see, and Richard didn’t return from the office until six o’clock. Therefore, she had on little (if any) makeup and an old floral dress that she only wore for cleaning house.

For a moment Lily seriously considered pretending she wasn’t home, what with the way she looked, but her mother had trained her to never leave company waiting on the doorstep, and had trained her well. So Lily put aside her vanity and hurried to get the door.

Another knocked sounded before she reached the foyer.

“Just a moment!” she called loudly to whomever was there.

She wrenched the door open and froze. Even her heart stopped moving.

“Hello,” said James, ruffling his hair awkwardly.

“Hello,” she echoed.

They stared at each other for a few minutes. Or perhaps it was only a few seconds; Lily couldn’t keep track. She hadn’t expected to ever see James Potter again.

He smiled and her breath came back, though she didn’t know it had left her.

“Are you going to hex me this time?” he asked her, putting his hands in his pockets.

Lily barked out a short, unexpected laugh. “No, I don’t think so. Probably not.”

“Oh, probably, is it?” James chuckled. His shoulders dropped a little in what she assumed was relief. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, sorry,” she said, stepping aside and holding the door wide open for him. As James passed her into the foyer Lily glanced down and silently cursed her silly, fading floral dress. “What…er, what brings you to Cokeworth?”

James ducked his head. “I dropped my handkerchief last time I was here.”

She shut the door with a snap. “Really.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to come by and get it, if that’s alright,” he continued, mumbling and glancing around the house.

“Liar,” said Lily. “I haven’t seen any handkerchiefs lying around.”

James shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough.”

“I keep a clean house—if some hanky was dropped more than two weeks ago there’s no possible way I wouldn’t have seen it since,” she pointed out. “Unless this is an invisible hanky? I know how you like your fabrics to be invisible.”

“Ha, ha,” he retorted, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. It quickly disappeared when he spoke again. “It might be that Richard picked it up—”

“Richard doesn’t pick things up,” Lily interrupted. “It’s a terrible habit of his. If he didn’t have me, he’d be drowning in a sea of things he’s never picked up by now and wouldn’t even pick up the phone to call for help. So out with it, Potter. The truth, now.”

He sighed and began to fidget, glancing around for something to distract him. Once or twice his hand moved toward his hair but dropped at the last moment.

Against her better judgment (as usual with James Potter), Lily took pity on him.

“Would you like some tea?” she offered wearily.

 

* * *

 

James was never, ever still.

It was something Lily used to be quite irritated over; it was torment sitting behind a boy in class who was taller than her by just enough to block her view of the front, and every time she moved her head to catch a glimpse of the blackboard he got in the way again. And a quiet night in the common room was out of the question when James decided to be loud.

Over time, however, she’d come to adore his constant state of movement. He had an energy that couldn’t be tamed, the same sort of energy that had him flailing about with too-long limbs and wild hair, and somehow managing to come off charming despite all that working against him. And the more she adored him, the more she memorized his little habits. If pressed, Lily could recite every one of them off the top of her head.

Currently, James was lightly tapping his teaspoon against the tablecloth, a dull, muted twine with each tap. Just as the last time, he wouldn’t meet Lily’s eyes from across the kitchen table.

She waited, exercising her patience against her overwhelming curiosity.

James glanced over at the sink, the window drapes, even the doormat in front of the back door, anything but where she sat.

At last he said, “Sirius mentioned…you didn’t seem exactly happy when he was staying here.” He spoke into his teacup, his head hung low.

Lily frowned in confusion. “Is that what you’re here about?”

James performed a rather odd movement, a combination of a shrug and a head tilt while his chin still nearly touched his chest. She was reminded of a goose she’d seen once—it had attempted to swallow half a loaf of bread and the resulting efforts involved some bizarre convulsions. A smile blossomed in her mouth and spread outwards into a silent giggle.

“What?” asked James, who had apparently seen her amusement.

“You haven’t changed all that much,” she told him. Lily propped her elbows on the table and folded her hands under her chin delicately. “Two years and a supposed death since I last saw you, and you’re as graceless as ever.”

“Am not,” he protested with a hint of a smile.

“Are so,” teased Lily, but she lost her sense of playfulness when she truly considered him. James was much more serious, much quieter—even quieter than his bashful phase around her. A weariness had settled upon his shoulders. He _had_ grown into himself. “Where it matters, anyway,” she added.

James must have sensed her mood shift, because he looked her straight in the eye. “Lily, I know we weren’t ever friends—I’m not sure we could have been, what with everything that happened—but I think I know you well enough to know when you’re unhappy. And Sirius and you were mates, for some reason, and he’s convinced you’re miserable.”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “And you came all the way to Cokeworth because both you and Sirius thought I might not be… _happy_.”

“Well…yeah,” said James, apparently bewildered at her skepticism.

“I’m fine,” Lily replied, almost in a whisper.

He snorted quietly but said nothing. Instead he looked down at the table again, and Lily realised with a chill that he was staring at her wedding ring. She fought the sudden, desperate urge to cover up the offending gold band, to hide it from him somehow.

“Really,” she insisted after a minute had gone by. “The two of you just caught me at a bit of a rough patch. Things here are all fine.”

“You…er, are you still sleeping in a different room than your husband?” he asked reluctantly.

“Yes, but that’s only…” Lily cut herself off; she didn’t want to lie today. “Yes.”

James shifted in his seat, almost as though he were pulling away from her. “I suppose…but, I mean, I’ve never been married but I always thought you’d want to be with the person you love all the time.”

“Well, it’s none of your business,” she pointed out.

“Perhaps not, but—”

“James,” said Lily, “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

His shoulders dropped and he looked determinedly at his hands. “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he mumbled. “I was worried that…but I see now. I should probably go.” He stood so quickly she barely saw it.

“Wait—” Lily jumped to her feet as well. “Please don’t. If we could just talk about…what you’ve been doing, I’d love to hear that. I haven’t heard anything about the Wizarding world in such a long time.”

James looked torn.

“Could you tell me about the boys?” she pressed. “What have you lot been up to?”

“Er…since Pete died we haven’t been up to much, other than fighting in the war,” he muttered, tugging at his shirt hem. “After that and what happened to me, we lost a lot of…things just haven’t been as fun.”

Lily’s stomach dropped. “Right,” she breathed. “Peter. He really did die? Not like you?”

“No, he, er,” James sat back down and picked up his teaspoon, holding it out in front of him. “He got between me and an explosion. I don’t know what sort of curse it was but he jumped in front of me and I couldn’t see him anymore but I could hear him, all the screaming…and when I went back for him I was captured.”

“Oh,” Lily breathed. She put a hand to her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, he was a Gryffindor to the end, though.”

She watched the grief pass over James’ face and on instinct reached out and covered his hands with her own. James looked up at her sharply.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him sincerely. Lily had never spent much time with Peter, but she knew the other boys had cared for him deeply.

“Yeah, I—” James pulled his hands away from hers. “I should go, I…there’s something…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you—”

“No, I’m just…” he rubbed his hands together awkwardly. “I’m glad you’re fine, Lily. I…I hope you and Richard are very happy together.”

Lily watched in bewilderment as James jumped up from his seat and practically dashed out of her house. And then her chest tightened, because this was probably the last time she would ever see James Potter.

 

* * *

 

**X**

 

(1977)

Lily wiped fiercely at her cheeks, commanding her eyes to stop leaking out tears, but they continued despite her best efforts. She let out a sob and put her hand in front of her mouth to muffle the noise. She _hated_ him so much, hated that stupid, arrogant face and that knowing smirk on his stupid mouth—

“Er…Lily?”

She jumped. “What?” Lily snapped, not turning around.

Whoever had stumbled upon her behind this tapestry would just have to speak to her back, because she wouldn’t dare show her face like this.

“Are you alright?”

“ _No!_ ” she nearly screamed.

He was quiet for a while after that, and she thought he’d left, but then,

“What happened?”

Lily whirled on the spot. “What happened? What _happened?_ ”

It was none other than Remus Lupin, whose eyes were wide with shock. He looked as though this were the last possible place he’d ever want to be in his life.

“I…”

“I’ll tell you what happened!” she spat at him, wiping more at her eyes. Her mascara was probably running down her cheeks. “Your stupid friend is cruel, heartless, and the absolute _worst_ person I have ever met!”

Remus cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Er, I’m sure he’s not the _worst_ person you’ve ever met—”

“Oh, shut up!” Lily stomped her foot in frustration. “He keeps torturing me, Remus! He’s holding what he knows about me over my head and making me suffer for it! I’ve _never_ been so embarrassed in my entire life! I’ve never been so _humiliated!_ I hate him!”

“I’m sure if you told him how bad it’s getting, er, James would back off,” Remus suggested awkwardly.

Lily gaped. “Not _James_ , you idiot! Sirius Black! Your idiot friend Sirius Black! For Merlin’s sake, do you just _assume_ everything I say and do is about James Potter?”

He blinked twice, appearing close to wetting himself. “This isn’t about you fancying James?”

“UGH!” Lily reached down and pulled off her left shoe. She threw it at Remus, who ducked and quickly fled the hidden passageway.

A fresh wave of tears spilled out of her. Lily slumped against the grimy wall and slid down it. She hardly cared that her shirt came untucked and rode up enough so that her bare back was against the stone. Her shoe was gone, every day was a horrible mess, and there were still two months before summer holidays when she could escape Sirius Black’s merciless torment of her.

 

* * *

 

Though Lily was convinced she’d seen the last of James Potter she was proven wrong two days later, and happily so.

Not fifteen minutes after Richard had left for work, Lily heard a knock on the front door. It was a miracle she heard it at all, since she was in the middle of waving her wand like a conductor while cleaning up after breakfast, and the clanking of dishes was, to say the least, rather loud.

But she _did_ hear the knocking. Her heart leaped as she hoped against her better judgment that it was James again. Even despite scolding herself for being so silly, she nearly ran to open the door.

And when she saw that it was James, Lily couldn’t stop a wide smile from spreading across her face and into the corners of her eyes.

“Good morning,” said James. He was smiling as well, though a bit hesitantly.

“Hello,” she breathed. “Won’t you come in?”

“Yes, thanks,” said, his grin widening.

As he stepped past her into the foyer, Lily leaned forward slightly and caught a whiff of him. He had a pleasant scent about him that reminded her of the woods. And not the smoky, campfire odour that was so like the coal of Cokeworth; the sort of gentle scent of trees and underbrush.

He smelled like Hogwarts.

“I can’t stay for long,” James told her after she closed the door. “I just wanted to come by because I left rather abruptly the last time I was here and I was worried it came off as rude.”

“That’s…you came by to tell me you’re sorry you left in a hurry, and you have to leave in a hurry,” said Lily slowly.

James grimaced and tucked his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have to run out the door or anything.”

“Well, if you have a few minutes to wait, I’ve some cleaning to finish,” said Lily. She turned abruptly and headed back into the kitchen.

It was…difficult to articulate how much she’d agonised over James’ sudden departure. Her mind wandered back to the moment he fled from her both day and night and she had analysed every tiny detail, wondering what she might have done wrong.

And to have him come back to apologise about the whole thing with a simple “it was a bit rude” twisted her stomach in unpleasant knots.

Lily picked up her wand from the kitchen counter and resumed her spells. Some of the soap began to fly all over the kitchen unbidden.

“A bit rusty with that wand?” she heard James say.

She whirled on the spot, snapping, “I do this nearly every—” before seeing his amused smirk as he leaned against the doorframe between the dining room and kitchen. It was difficult to be irritated with him with that smirk, let alone scold him. “You’re funny, Potter.”

“Ah, you know, I’ve my moments,” he mumbled, ducking his head with that smirk still fully on display. “Besides, I know firsthand how sharp you still are.”

“You’re not going to let me forget about hexing you, are you,” she said. It wasn’t really a question, and James confirmed her assumptions when he shrugged and chuckled quietly.

Lily rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her work. It took a lot of inner coaching to keep herself focused on her spell work and not what James might be doing behind her back. When she’d finished, Lily turned back to him and found she couldn’t read his face.

James had an expression she’d never seen before—no, she _had_ seen it, that first visit when she thought he was an imposter. She hadn’t given it much thought then.

“I brought something for you,” James said abruptly. He pushed himself off the doorframe and pulled out his wand from his pocket.

Lily lowered her own wand. “Oh? Will I like it?”

“No, you’re certain to hate it,” he teased. “That’s why I brought it for you, see.”

“You always have to get the last word in, don’t you?” she laughed.

James ruffled his hair with his free hand rather pointedly in her direction. “Of course, you know me,” he said. James put his wand into his left hand and dug again into his pocket, pulling out a stack of photographs. “Anyway, I was digging through some old things yesterday and when I was sorting through Sirius’ box of school things I found these.”

She reached out and took them from his offering hand, determinedly ignoring how warm the photos were from being so close to him.

“These are of me and Sirius,” Lily murmured as she flipped through them. “I remember taking this one after we won Gobstones against Peter and Jenna.”

“Pete smelled like pus for hours after,” he told her. “It was a nightmare. I couldn’t sleep that night.”

“He did smell foul,” she recalled. She flipped to the next photo. “Oh, it’s from Valentine’s Day!” she looked up at James with a smile. “Sirius had so many date offers that year but he went with me instead. I wouldn’t have though he’d give up several sure things like that.”

“Yeah…didn’t a third year ask him to go?” James chuckled.

Lily suppressed a snort. “Oh, that poor boy,” she giggled. “He was so upset when Sirius turned him down. Though to be fair he should have known better; Sirius barely tolerated sixth years.”

“You had your own offers, didn’t you,” said James mischievously. “Devon Larkin, with his twelve white doves holding up a giant heart-shaped wreath made out of red roses and a couple of House Elves reciting some of his _scintillating_ poetry—”

“Merlin, why haven’t you forgotten that yet?” groaned Lily. She put the pictures in front of her face to hide how red her cheeks must be.

“Because it was the single greatest moment of my life. What was it—ah, yes. _Your delicate beauty, as gentle as a flower and fierce as a rose thorn, pierces my heart with the poisonous desire called love. I yearn for you like a bird yearns for sunlight in the winter_ —”

“Stop!” Lily demanded, shaking with laughter. “My God, I can’t believe he honestly thought that would work. And he wouldn’t leave me alone for days after, it was ridiculous!”

“I don’t know if Sirius told you, but after it spread around school you were going to Hogsmeade with him for Valentine’s Day Larkin challenged him to a duel,” James told her, stepping toward her.

She gasped. “He _didn’t!_ ”

“He did.”

“What happened?” she asked, almost afraid to find out.

James grinned. “Sirius trounced him.”

Lily snorted. “Oh, I should have guessed. Devin was never any good at dueling, the idiot.”

His grin lessened slightly. “I never found out how the two of you became such close friends.”

“Who, me and Devin?”

“You and Sirius,” James clarified. Lily’s heart skipped a beat. “I mean, you two always played at flirting or…I dunno, were fighting a lot for a while, but it was as though I turned around one day and you were mates, just like that. I should tell you, I was a bit jealous for a while.”

“Of me?” she said in confusion. James and Sirius were thick as thieves—no one had ever surpassed James in Sirius’ eyes, and certainly it went the other way.

“No, of…him,” he mumbled.

Lily’s breath caught.

James looked at the clock above the sink. “I really ought to get going,” he said, “but you hold on to those.”

“Will you come again?” she asked him before she stopped to think.

He nodded, tugging at his hem with both hands. A weight lifted from her chest.

 

* * *

 

**XI**

 

James came by nearly every day in the next few weeks.

The first few visits he remained very awkward around her, careful still to not look her in the eye and even more careful not to touch her. He was, in general, a quieter version of the James Potter she’d known at Hogwarts.

Lily didn’t mind the quiet, exactly; it was just that she wanted him to tell her everything he’d been up to since they were in school. It almost felt like meeting James Potter for the first time all over again.

But with each visit James let himself relax a little more. Instead of sitting stiff and straight-backed in the chair he’d decided upon at her tiny kitchen table, he began to recline and sprawl his long legs out. He smiled more and laughed more. He looked her in the eye. She couldn’t help to notice he was still avoiding her touch, yet in all other ways James made it seem as though he lived in her kitchen.

James knocked on her door before every visit, sometimes within minutes of Richard’s departure each morning. The timing continued to line up suspiciously well and Lily couldn’t help but to wonder if James watched the house to make sure she was alone.

Twice she nearly worked up the nerve to ask him if he was actively avoiding Richard, if these visits were something James felt he had to hide, but in the end she kept silent. Perhaps she wasn’t a true Gryffindor; she wasn’t brave enough to risk the end of his visits for an answer he might not want to give.

It took a while for him to stop making excuses for his visits—bringing by more pictures, a clipping of _The Daily Prophet_ he thought she’d find interesting, he’d forgotten something again—but the morning James walked through her foyer without any explanation, Lily found she couldn’t stop smiling the entire time he was there.

And with every visit, she couldn’t stop smiling even after he’d gone.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Lily wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, or keeping her smile in check.

Paul and Molly had come over for dinner again, something that had strangely little effect on Lily. She’d spent the entire dinner thinking of things to talk about with James when he came over next and largely ignoring the conversation around the dinner table. Molly had to nudge her more than once to prompt an answer for a question she hadn’t paid attention to.

As usual, she and Molly went off to wash dishes in the kitchen. Lily dried this time, caught up in all the fresh memories her kitchen held.

She was remembering a particularly amusing conversation she and James had the other day about one of his school pranks when Molly tapped her sharply on the shoulder with a wet finger.

“What?” Lily whipped her head in Molly’s direction.

“I’ve been trying to give you this plate for the past two minutes,” said Molly, not unkindly. “What has gotten into you today?”

Lily blushed and tried to shrug it off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled, and caught herself smiling again because she’d mumbled just like James.

“Liar,” the other woman accused with a smile of her own. “I can see something’s different. You’ve got a sort of glow.” Her mouth dropped open and she gasped. “Is that it? Has something…you know…gotten _into you?_ ”

It took a moment for Lily to pick it up, and when she did she nearly dropped the plate Molly had given her.

“No!” she exclaimed, red as a beet. “No, definitely not. No.”

It could have been her imagination, but Molly looked almost disappointed. Lily twisted her hair tightly and threw it over her shoulder, trying to think of an answer for Molly that wasn’t the truth—it was silly, but she had this mad desire to keep James to herself.

But she didn’t have to worry about explaining herself after all, because the other woman shrugged and turned back to her task at the sink.

“I suppose a girl can have a few secrets,” she told Lily, grabbing the soapy sponge. “And besides, it isn’t as though you’re _really_ married, is it?”

 

* * *

 

Try as she might, Lily couldn’t stop replaying that conversation with Molly for the rest of the night. They were thoughts she _shouldn’t_ be having, and yet…she _wasn’t_ really married.

Half-formed thoughts swirled around in her head, thoughts she didn’t fully allow herself to think but didn’t go away nonetheless. She wasn’t ready to admit to herself just how much things hadn’t changed since school because, if she were being even a little honest, it was a terrifying notion.

She was deep in her own world, a book in her hands as she sat at the kitchen table but not really reading it ( _“It isn’t as though you’re really married”_ ) when James knocked on the front door.

Lily’s heart leapt to her throat and she wiped her palms on her skirt nervously, closing her book and putting it down. “Come in!” she called, hating the dryness in her throat. Damn Molly and her questions.

The front door opened and shut. James’ footsteps were swift and sure, knowing the path to the kitchen with easy familiarity by now, and that pleased her more than it should.

“Good morning,” she greeted him. “You’re a bit late for breakfast, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, if I only came by for breakfast that might be a problem,” joked James, “but thankfully I am actually capable of feeding myself.” He sat down across from her.

“You could have fooled me, what with the way you go through all my food,” said Lily. This was good, this back-and-forth. She could fall back on this. “Don’t you stop eating so much once you’ve done all your growing?”

“Really, don’t we all continue to grow throughout our lives?” he returned with a mock-philosophical tone.

Lily rolled her eyes and tried very hard not to snort. “You are terrible.”

“I think you mean _terrific_.”

“Terrifying’s more like it.”

They lapsed into a silence that was both easy and unnerving, if such a thing was possible. She oscillated between picking up her book again or letting it be. James tapped his fingers on the table top absently, playing out a tune she couldn’t make out.

“You know,” he said presently, “I think I’ve memorised this kitchen.”

“I doubt it,” Lily replied.

“Well I’m here almost every day,” said James. “I’ve watched you put away enough dishes to know every last inch of this place. I even know where you keep the Muggle cleaning supplies.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, how astute, Potter. I’m sorry if my home is boring you.”

“Not in the slightest, but surely there are other places we can be besides this kitchen,” he teased.

Her face went very hot and tingled under his gaze. She bit her lip. ( _“Has something…you know…gotten into you?”_ ) Once again, she silently threw curses at Molly.

“Oh…” James cleared his throat. “No, that’s not what I meant, I promise.”

“I…”

“You’ve got such a nice sitting room,” he went on hurriedly. “And the back porch is so nice, especially at this time of year, they’re nice places to visit—”

“You keep saying ‘nice’,” Lily pointed out quietly.

“Do I?” James glanced around the kitchen distractedly; his gaze landed on the clock above the sink. “Merlin’s balls, is that the time? I’ve got to go, I’m so sorry—”

He fled before Lily could get even a single word out, and her stomach dropped unpleasantly.

“Of course,” she muttered to herself, and picked up her stupid book again. She couldn’t even find the sentence she’d last read before drifting off, and resigned herself to staring at the pages morosely.

Things really hadn’t changed since Hogwarts.

Fifteen minutes later, though, he was back, knocking on her door again and not even waiting for an invitation before bursting in and running toward her. She could hear the doorknob bounce against the wall as it swung wide and winced at the probable damage.

James caught himself on the kitchen doorframe.

“I want you to come with me,” he said breathlessly.

Lily stared up at him. “What?”

“Come with me,” James repeated. “I want to show you something.”

‘I don’t know if—”

“Come on!” he urged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He lost patience and came to her, holding out his hand. “It’s somewhere other than this kitchen.”

She hesitated for only a moment before putting her hand in his. James tugged her to her feet and pulled her through the house. Lily had the presence of mind to grab the doorknob and swing the front door shut as they passed through the foyer.

It wasn’t until James pulled her to the sidewalk that Lily began to wonder what the neighbors might think of her—walking around hand-in-hand with a strange man in broad daylight, the scandal that could cause if the wrong person saw…

James didn’t even realise her worries. He kept a brisk pace until they rounded a corner into an alleyway.

“Take a deep breath,” he advised.

“Why—”

“Lily.”

She gulped in a large quantity of air, puffing her cheeks out like a chipmunk just to spite him. James rolled his eyes and gripped her hand all the more tightly. He turned on his heel and Lily felt herself squeezed through an impossibly small space—she shut her eyes—and when it was over a few seconds later, her ears were ringing.

“Warn me next time,” she snapped at James, and then looked around.

They were in the middle of a valley, and on all sides were rolling hills and trees. Mist clung faintly to the edges of the hills, stubborn under the bright sunshine. Lily took in a deep breath and smelled the fresh, clean air.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Dumbledore’s summer home,” said James. “It’s that small cabin, right there.” He took her shoulders (she nearly stopped breathing) and turned her sharply to the left.

It was a dingy, unremarkable abode with just a single storey and a thatched roof. Lily couldn’t imagine Professor Dumbledore living in such a place, but perhaps it was bigger on the inside.

“What are we doing here?” she asked James, who had still not taken his hands away. She burned under his touch.

“Embracing the revolution,” he told her, and began to lead her to the front door.

“The revolution?”

“The war with Voldemort,” James clarified. “It’s gotten worse, and if we don’t stand up and fight none of us will survive.”

They had reached the front door.

“And what’s in Dumbledore’s summer home that could make a difference?” Lily prompted.

James grinned, one side of his mouth quirked higher than the other.

“Welcome,” he said, as he threw open the door, “to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”


	5. XII-XIII

**XII**

 

What surprised Lily the most were the number of familiar faces she saw during the meeting. She knew them as teachers, prefects, troublemakers, wallflowers—some of them older than her, and some of them younger.

James had brought them to sit with Sirius and Remus, the former greeting her with a large smile and an arm around her shoulder. Remus was his usual quiet self, nodding at her in welcome and turning his attention to the matters at hand. She wouldn’t have expected anything less.

Dumbledore spoke of attacks Lily hadn’t even known about, of giants tearing down villages and Dementors terrorising public places that should have been safe. He spoke of missions the so-called Order of the Phoenix went on to stop these attacks though from the sound of it, they were losing this war.

This was not the kindly Dumbledore she knew from school. No, this Dumbledore radiated power and command and Lily feared him just a little less than she was inspired by him.

And she _was_ inspired by him. She could understand the call James must have felt when he joined Dumbledore’s army because she felt it herself, that urge to stand up and fight, to protect innocents. It was a stirring in her blood that resonated deep into a place Lily had thought she’d lost the day she agreed to marry Richard.

Her thrall remained until the meeting ended—and that was when reality came crashing down.

“Lily Evans!” It was Emmaline Vance, a girl in Lily’s year at school. She barely recognised Emma with short hair and a scar on her cheek. “Merlin’s beard, where have you been hiding?”

“Lily!” Dorcas Meadowes, Head Girl in Lily’s fifth year. “Look at you, all grown up!”

She tried to smile at the two women and glanced around desperately for James. He was in deep conversation with Professor McGonagall in a corner, and of no help to her.

“Hello,” Lily said to both of them. “Er…how’ve you—”

“Evans, it is you,” boomed Sturgis Podmore. She’d know his loud voice from anywhere. “I said to Diggle here, it had to be Lily Evans with that red hair.”

“He did,” confirmed Dedalus Diggle as the both strode toward her. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought you’d moved to Canada or something. Fancy that, Lily Evans back in the game!”

Lily licked her lips. “Beauchamp,” she corrected quietly.

The crowd amassing around her frowned in collective confusion.

“I got married,” she told them, blushing miserably. “It’s ‘Lily Beauchamp’ now.”

She might have imagined it, but Lily thought she saw several pairs of eyes flick towards where James and McGonagall were talking.

And then the questions started.

“What’s his name?”

“How did you meet?”

“What have you been up to since Hogwarts?”

“Where are you living?”

“What sort of work are you into?”

Lily didn’t know how to answer any of them, with their eagerness and hungry eyes. Clearly they had imagined her off on some grand adventurous life.

Sirius came to her rescue as she was stuttering through an explanation of Richard, slinging an arm over her shoulder once again and laughing loudly.

“Alright, you vultures, leave the lady alone!” he told the lot of them. “She’s got places to be and you’re keeping her.” As they shuffled off Sirius pulled her close. “Sorry about that,” he muttered in her ear.

“Thanks,” said Lily in relief.

“Did James tell you what we’re doing here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Only about ten seconds before I walked in.”

“Typical,” scoffed Sirius. “I’m supposed to be the reckless one. Oh, speak of the devil.”

James joined them, looking at Sirius’ arm around Lily with that damned inscrutable expression. He pushed his hands into his pockets and lifted his shoulders. It reminded her of a turtle retreating into its shell.

“Well?” he prompted. “What did you think?”

“I’d like to go home,” Lily murmured. “Please?”

He ducked his head a little. “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

Lily nearly ran up the porch steps when they returned to her house on Packer Street. She flung the door open and almost shut it on James’ foot when he followed her inside.

“Oy!” he exclaimed.

“Sorry,” Lily said, though she didn’t exactly feel it.

“What’s the matter?” asked James as he closed the door gently.

She opened her mouth and found she _couldn’t_ explain to James. He wasn’t trapped like she was. He could do anything he wanted, and all she could do was clean house.

“It’s nothing,” she said at last.

James shook his head. “No, don’t try to tell me that.”

“I—”

What was she supposed to say? That she realised in that moment, when all the questions came flying at her, how deeply ashamed she was to be living in Cokeworth and married to a man who could never, ever love her? That she did nothing with her life after school and was little more than a massive disappointment to herself and those who expected greatness from her?

It was all Sirius’ fault, Lily decided. If Sirius hadn’t been running around Cokeworth, she would never have taken him home and he wouldn’t have revealed himself. And he went and got James without so much as a warning, the prick.

If those two hadn’t shown up in what passed as her life she could have ignored how much she hated living it. But no, they had to shatter her world.

She _wasn’t_ fine. She _wasn’t_ happy.

“Why did you take me to that meeting?” Lily demanded, the question bursting out of her unbidden. There was no good reason to ask at James about this, it was herself she was furious at, but he was _there_ and he didn’t understand, and she was so embarrassed and upset that she couldn’t keep it down anymore.

James ran a hand through his hair irritably. “I dunno—I thought you might like it, since you have nothing else to do during your days. I thought I might do you some good.”

Her stomach took a wallop. “What, do you think I laze about, day in and day out?” she snapped.

“No! I only meant—”

“You took one look at me and decided to make me a project, didn’t you?” she continued, hot tears building up behind her eyes. James Potter was the only person who could bring her to tears these days. “Silly girl, married you, hmm, what _shall_ we do with her to make her more useful?”

“Come off it, Lily, you’re restless and bored,” James defended himself wearily. “I’ve never known you to like doing nothing.”

“Bored? _Bored?_ Ugh!” Lily stomped her foot. Why did he have to keep pushing? “I am not a child, James! You don’t have to arrange _activities_ to keep me occupied.”

James ran both hands through his hair and locked his fingers together behind his head. “That’s _not_ what I was doing, Evans, I just thought you’d like to come along since you’re always asking about the Wizarding world. I’m sorry if you’re all offended but I just wanted to see you happy, alright? For Merlin’s sake, you wanted to keep seeing _me_ of all people—that says just how desperate you’ve gotten for contact with our world. Next time I won’t bother, yeah?”

All the wretched feelings she was boiling over with transformed into something else, something no less volatile but certainly less miserable.

He had called her Evans.

Everything after that one, silly little slip-up she’d only half-heard, the blood pumping in her ears making words difficult to parse. He had called her Evans, and her stomach had soared like the first time she’d flown on a broom. Lily wasn’t even sure her feet were on the ground now.

“You know what? Congratulations,” she said quietly. “You caught me. I am restless and bored. I hate twiddling my thumbs every day, trying to think of something to do. Do you know how many books I’ve read in the past year and a half? Too many. You’re always supposed to say ‘oh, I want to read that but I don’t have the time, I’m so busy’ but I always have the time. It’s nonsense.

“I graduated top of my class in Charms and Potions, and what do I do with it? Keep my home tidy. Cook a few things with magic. I could have been a Healer, or an Apothecary.” Her chest convulsed for a moment as she grasped this for the first time in its entirety. “I’m a bloody housewife, all because my mum was dying and everyone wanted her to see me married off to Richard before she died and I didn’t have the guts or presence of mind to say no.”

Lily sighed, holding back tears, and twisted her hair together before throwing it over her shoulder. James watched her movements warily.

“But you’re wrong,” she continued, her voice steadily rising, “if you think that’s why I look forward to seeing you every chance I get, you idiot. Don’t you realise I count the seconds until you knock on my door again? Don’t you know I can’t stop thinking about you?”

She had planned to say more, much more on the subject, but speaking was quite impossible because James kissed her right then.

 

* * *

 

**XIII**

 

(1977)

Sirius plopped down across from her. She didn’t even hear him open the compartment door, she was so lost in her own thoughts.

“Fuck off, Black, I’m not in the mood,” muttered Lily, wholly uninterested in what he had to offer.

“Neither am I, truth be told,” he admitted, propping his feet up next to her. She glanced down and saw with some amusement that Sirius was sporting black motorcycle boots. “I just want to talk for a bit.”

“Well, bully for you,” she said. “Talk away, see if I care.”

Sirius settled into his seat with a loud “ _Aaahh_.”

She ignored him. Ignoring Sirius Black had by far been the best option available to her as of late, all the tormenting he’d decided she had somehow earned. Lily was no stranger to bullies—she was a Muggle-born in a school full of blood purists—but until four months ago she’d thought Sirius had liked her well enough.

“I realise I may have been a bit of a prick to you the last few months,” Sirius began.

Lily shot him a glare.

“Alright, a lot of a prick,” he amended. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for that. I lost my head a bit when I found out you fancied James.”

“Will you stop saying ‘a bit’?” snapped Lily. “You’ve been outright cruel! There are no ‘bits’ of anything you’ve done to me.”

To his credit, Sirius looked ashamed of himself. “I know that, Evans; I’m not proud of myself, and that’s a rare thing. I just…I never imagined losing James and then you come along and keep looking at him the way you do and you know, I saw it for the first time that day, that we could stop being what we are.”

She felt the skin under her ears and next to her nose grow steadily warmer. Was Sirius Black…was he like Richard?

Sirius was oblivious to her thoughts. “Don’t ever tell anyone I said this—or do tell, what do I care—but I’ve never loved anyone the way I do him. And the Potters, I suppose, but really him. I’ve never had that one thing to myself. So I got…jealous.”

“Of…” Lily hesitated. Richard had been so terrified when she’d found him out; what if Sirius went back to taunting her? “Of what I would mean to James if we…if we…”

His eyes narrowed in confusion, and then he sat straight up. “Merlin’s sweaty balls, Evans! You think I’m soft on him—or hard for him?” Sirius threw back his head and barked out a laugh. “Now wouldn’t that be something? No! He’s like a brother to me—more than a brother.”

“Oh.” She felt stupid.

Sirius must have sensed her embarrassment because he added, “Two handsome blokes like us, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

Lily shrugged. “I’d understand, I suppose.”

“Well, believe it or not, I didn’t come in here to confess my undying love for James Potter,” said Sirius. “I was wondering if we could, I dunno, start over? Try out being friends for a change?”

She wondered just how terrible an idea that would be. Certainly it would be better than having Sirius dogging her every step, taunting her for a feeling she couldn’t control.

“Alright, we’ll give it a go,” said Lily.

“Excellent!” Sirius declared. He put out a hand for her to shake. When she took it, he added, “He fancies you too, you know.”

 

* * *

 

His hands were warm.

She should have been focusing on his lips, since he was kissing her, but James had been so careful not to touch her that Lily couldn’t stop noticing how warm and large his hands were, the callouses on his palms and the way he moved his thumbs up and down her arms.

And his hair was soft, like she’d always imagined. Soft but somehow determined to stick up wildly. She tugged at a few of the locks gently and James made a sound into her mouth that had her knees buckling.

Lily could barely breathe—her heart was in her throat and his kisses stole what little air she managed to catch.

But she didn’t mind, because James Potter was kissing her.

Her back hit a wall.

Where had they been before he kissed her? She couldn’t even remember; before and after seemed like such trivial ideas, especially now that he was closer, his whole body pressed against her—

The sounds of something shattering broke them apart, her heart stopping at the noise.

“What?” she began hazily as James pulled away. She felt cold at the loss.

“Something broke,” he mumbled.

Lily watched him head around a corner…that didn’t make sense. She blinked and reoriented herself.

They were on the other side of the foyer, against the small wall with one side facing the kitchen, a cupboard under the stairs filled with linens and blankets and pillows, and on the other side the staircase, where all the pictures hung on the wall…it must have been a picture that fell, she realised. Fell and the glass broke within the frame.

She peeled herself off the wall with some difficulty; James had made her knees turn to jelly.

“What was it?” she asked him.

No answer.

Lily kept a hand on the wall in case she fell as she turned the corner to the staircase. James was staring down at the shattered picture with that inscrutable expression back on his face. He glanced up at her and then back down.

“How fitting,” he mumbled.

She saw then what had bothered him so—her wedding photo with Richard, the one where he looked so handsome and she wore a giant smile on her face. The glass had gone everywhere but the picture was still in perfect condition.

“I can fix that in a moment,” said Lily hesitantly. She put out a hand for him to take, but he ignored it. “It’s no trouble.”

James let out a bitter laugh. “Really? I come back into your life and ruin your marriage, and there’s _no trouble?_ ”

She took a breath to steady herself. “That’s not true.”

“You’re _married_.” The pain in his voice staggered her. “You met someone—or you’ve always known him, and you chose to spend the rest of your life with him and I kept coming here anyway because apparently, I can’t stay away from you.”

“No,” she started. “James, I—”

“I’ve really fucked up this time, haven’t I?” said James, more to himself than her. “More than usual. Just went for it and fucked up everything.” He looked up at her. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“ _Shut up!_ ” snapped Lily, surprising even herself with the loudness of her own voice. “Stop doing that noble self-sacrifice thing you’re so in love with and listen to me! You don’t know the first thing you’re talking about, you great big prat. I’ve dreamt about kissing you for years and if you ruin it I’ll never forgive you!”

He stared at her.

Lily reached out to take his hand and pulled him away from the shattered wedding photo. He came willingly, something she put to his confusion, and she led him into the sitting room. They sat on the long sofa.

“I’m not married,” she told him. “At least, not the way you think I am. Richard and I aren’t…we’ve _never_ been in love. He…he…I can’t say, but he’s only ever looked at me as a friend or sister. This?” She held up her thin gold wedding band. “This is nothing.” She tugged it off her finger and threw it across the sitting room. She didn’t hear it land on the carpeted floor but couldn’t care less.

“Then what happened?” James managed.

“My mum, James,” said Lily, feeling her throat constrict. “You remember she was sick back in our seventh year. She always wanted Petunia and Richard to marry and when Petunia went off and married Vernon she decided that it really had been Richard and I all along. She was in such pain and I wanted to see her happy so I said yes. That’s all.”

“You’re still married,” he pointed out. He didn’t sound suspicious but Lily felt she had to defend herself all the same.

“It’s my dad now,” she explained. “He’s having trouble letting go of mum. And Richard’s family is so…they wouldn’t accept him for who he really is, and I’ve been protecting him from that. Once he earns enough money to live on his own, without any of their help, we’ll divorce and that’ll be that.”

James ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t love him.”

“I don’t,” she confirmed.

“You…” he ducked his head for a moment but looked back up, seemingly unable to keep his eyes off her. “So it hasn’t just been me all this time.”

“That night,” whispered Lily as her cheeks went red. “Do you think I…that it was all just…I wouldn’t have if I didn’t mean it.”

He didn’t have to ask what night she meant; she could see it in his eyes.

“I didn’t realise,” James began. “I thought…”

Lily put a hand to his cheek, the hand that was not entwined with his own. “Kiss me,” she murmured, her heart racing in anticipation.

He did.


	6. XIV-XVI

**XIV**

 

“I said, what’s for dinner?”

Lily wrenched her gaze away from the couch (where James had been on top of her, snogging her like they were still teenagers, like they should have back when they _were_ teenagers) and back toward Richard.

“Oh,” she said hazily. “I completely forgot.”

“Forgot what I said or forgot dinner entirely?” he prompted.

“Dinner,” admitted Lily, feeling slightly guilty. She would have offered up more guilt if she wasn’t so full of elation. “I’ll pull together some leftovers for you; I’m not that hungry myself.”

Richard frowned in concern. “Are you alright, Lily?”

“Fine,” she told him. “Sorry, let me get some food on the table.”

Lily brushed past him and left the sitting room. When she reached the kitchen sink she stopped and reached up to touch her lips, smiling so wide that her face hurt. She didn’t mind. Kissing James Potter was worth any slight inconveniences on her part.

 

* * *

 

The morning after he kissed her, Lily had nearly bounded down the stairs in anticipation of Richard leaving and James walking through her front door. She’d told him he didn’t need to knock anymore; once Richard was gone, James was the only person Lily would ever expect.

Ten minutes passed with Lily sitting her kitchen table after Richard’s car pulled out of the driveway, ten minutes with her heart racing pleasantly, spent imagining further kisses from James.

And then the ten minutes turned into fifteen, twenty, half an hour…she moved from the kitchen table to the couch against the window in the sitting room, periodically moving the curtains to peek out and see if she could spot James walking up to her front porch.

Noon passed and she made herself lunch. She kept her hands busy after that, so busy that she almost didn’t have time to think about James’ absence.

Almost.

When three o’clock arrived, Lily pulled out a large roast from the meat freezer in the basement and set about thawing it. She prepared an elaborate meal, partly as an apology to Richard, and partly to keep herself from thinking. But the worries crept in anyway and nothing she did could hope to abate them.

_Where was he?_

And the next morning, after a long night spent tossing and turning and hoping that James was alright, that he wasn’t hurt, because why wouldn’t he come to her after learning she was his, Lily stomped down the staircase and scrambled eggs with more vehemence than they required, leaving the texture of them rubbery and unpleasant.

Richard, to his credit, said nothing on the poor quality of their breakfast.

Before he left, he asked her, “Is there something you need, Lily?”

The concern and worry in his voice touched her, if only a little. But Richard couldn’t give her what she needed—and that had always been the problem from the start.

So she pasted a smile on her lips and answered, “No, I’m fine. Just a bit tired today.”

She _was_ tired. Lily spent her morning alternately napping on the couch by the window and peering out to see if James was waiting for her.

He wasn’t.

By the third day, Lily didn’t bother to wait for James’ arrival. She set to deep-cleaning the house, leaving her wand under her bed and getting her hands dirty. Her reasoning, the one she said out loud to an empty room, was that it had been a while and she wanted to see if she could still clean without magic. The reason she locked away in her mind (but still thought nonetheless) was that cleaning by hand could take a very long time, and she might need it.

Richard came home that night and nearly gagged on the cleaning solvent she’d employed. He covered his mouth and nose with his hands and, after Lily’s half-hearted apology, informed her in a stuffy voice that he’d be eating with Molly and Paul over at their house.

This continued for several more days, although after Richard’s impromptu dining out she had the presence of mind to throw open the windows. She even cleaned out his room and the study, two places in the house Lily usually waved her wand toward with an intent to leave as soon as possible.

Although Richard had no idea what Lily was going through, he knew her well enough to realise something was off. He started picking up dinner on his way home from work because Lily wouldn’t stop to eat unless he insisted, and even then she didn’t feel hungry.

All day and night, all she could think about where horrific scenarios involving James and Death Eaters, James versus rampaging giants, James fighting, outnumbered, against werewolves and Dementors and Inferi, swarming around him. James getting captured again. James being tortured.

James dying.

One nightmare was so vivid that Lily woke up screaming, her heart fit to burst. Richard came into her room that night and held her until she fell back asleep. When she woke up the next morning he was still there, propped up against the headboard with his head leaning to the side and drool coming out of one corner of his mouth.

The thing was…the thing was Lily had managed to forget the gravity of the world she’d left behind until James had brought her to that meeting.

Of course, she hadn’t forgotten there was a war—she’d believed for over a year that James Potter was a casualty of the fighting—but it was easy in boring, old Cokeworth to lose sight of the gravity and remember only the excitement, the thrill of casting spells and trading money with goblins. Even the sting of words like “mudblood” seemed far away and fairytale.

But then James vanished for a week, and Lily could not bear the idea that somehow he might be gone from her, and she understood exactly what she’d left behind the day she agreed to marry Richard.

And this time, it did not scare her into running farther down the aisle. This time she didn’t waver.

Her nerves turned to steel, and this time, she felt her Gryffindor courage burn.

 

* * *

 

It had been a while since Lily had entered Diagon Alley, and the landscape had changed.

The way in was still direct—through the Leaky Cauldron, the back alley, tap the brick—but hardly anyone was in the pub which was a rarity. That should have clued Lily right away that something was off behind that alleyway, but she pressed forward all the same.

Wreckage.

Smouldering, buildings smoking and sodden all at once, as though the water couldn’t keep the fire down. The cobblestones were blackened with missed curses and soot from explosions. A rack of newspapers had fallen over and the papers had scattered across the street in varying states of soaking decay.

Lily stepped over the worst of the destruction, her wand gripped tightly in her hand.

She could not have imagined this.

When she was young, arriving in Diagon Alley for the first time (Severus Snape’s sweaty hand glued to her own), Lily had been in awe of the color and life the Wizarding world had to offer. Every windowpane was an entire world to explore, every shop a universe unto itself.

The Diagon Alley she had preserved in her mind was gone, and it might never come back.

Lily squared her shoulders and pushed aside her mourning for this blackened street. She moved on, walking carefully with her wand out until she arrived in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium. She knocked once, twice, before opening the door.

“Hello?” she called out. All that greeted her were the hooting of owls. Lily nearly gave up before she took a keen look around and saw the owls looked healthy and fed in their cages. Someone was still here, caring for the animals.

“Who’s there?” she said, raising her voice. “I know you’re there, all right?”

Slowly, so slowly she almost missed it at first, a head raised up from behind the counter.

Lily saw that it was a thin man, thing and balding and looking quite feeble in his heavy apron and falconer’s gloves. His wand was short and he held it in a shaking hand, pointing it at her warily. She kept her own wand leveled at him, not wanting to be caught unawares.

“We’re closed,” he stammered. “You best go on, now, before they come back.”

She didn’t have to ask who “they” were. “I need an owl,” she told him crisply. “I have galleons.”

“The post office has owls,” the thin man argued. “Fast owls, cheap, trained and—”

“Trained and monitored,” Lily finished for him. “I’d rather not alert the entire Ministry where I live and who I’m writing to. Never know who’s listening in, you understand.”

The thin man frowned, aiming his wand a little more sharply. “No one needs an unmonitored owl unless they’ve got something to hide these days. Are you…one of _them?_ ”

Lily laughed loudly, a single _HA!_ She held up her wand and showed him, slowly, that she was putting it back in the pocket of her blue jeans.

“I’m hiding myself,” she told the man. “My particular… _heritage_ isn’t very popular with them.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? For all I know, you’re just saying what you think makes you sympathetic.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me,” said Lily. “And I’ll have to trust you.”

The thin man eyed her for a few more moments, before putting down his own wand and moving from behind the counter. “If you kill me, I have people watching the store,” he informed her. “They’ll know if I’m gone.”

“I’d imagine the birds would make enough of a racket to alert the whole street,” Lily pointed out. “I need a quiet owl. Fast, able to avoid interception.”

“Does it matter if it’s small?” the thin man asked as he went over to a selection of owls. What he was really asking was whether or not she’d be sending large items (or long letters) through.

“Small is better,” she decided.

The thin man grabbed a long pole with a hook on the end and used it to grab a small owl’s cage. He brought down the silent, ruffled bird with ease and presented the cage to Lily.

“Seven galleons,” he said.

She knew the price was outrageous but didn’t argue. The man probably hadn’t sold anything in days, possibly weeks, and she suspected he wasn’t thin out of choice. Lily handed over the galleons from her coin purse and asked for a piece of paper and a quill.

The man reached under the counter and slid both items over, eyeing her with a suspicion she realised would never leave him.

Lily dipped her quill in the open inkwell the thin man gave her and, out of practice in using a quill, wrote in scrambling, uncertain lettering three words:

 _Come see me_.

“Give this to Sirius Black,” she told the owl as she tied the parchment to its leg. Lily let it out at the door and watched it fly off like a rocket, wings pumping furiously. She turned back inside to collect the cage and owl pellets from the thin man.

 

* * *

 

**XV**

 

Lily was in the middle of sorting her pantry when she heard a frenzied knock on the back door.

She jumped and put down the two jars of spices she’d been deliberating over. “Who is it?” she demanded.

“Nice to see you took the Apparition-proofing off your backyard,” Sirius called through the door. “Let me in!”

Lily hurried over and pulled open the door. Sirius stumbled through and supported himself on the counter. When she took in his appearance, she saw he had a large gash on his left side that had soaked through most of his shirt.

“Merlin!” she exclaimed, pulling him over to the kitchen table. “What on earth happened to you?”

“Got into a bit of a disagreement with your old friend Snivellus,” said Sirius with a hollow laugh. “Can’t seem to make it stop.”

He looked pale, paler than Lily had ever seen a person look, except for the once.

“Stay here,” she commanded, and ran upstairs to grab her wand.

She didn’t even notice how badly her hands were shaking until she nearly dropped her wand after pulling it out from underneath her bed. But this was no time to lose her nerve, not if it was the curse she suspected. Lily rushed back to the kitchen and found Sirius slumped over the table.

“I’ve already tried every spell I know,” he told her weakly. His bravado was starting to fade. “I don’t think there’s any help for it.”

“Don’t be such a martyr,” scolded Lily. “Now sit up and take off your shirt.”

“If you wanted to get a look at all this you should have said so earlier,” Sirius tried to tease, but the effect was ruined when he started coughing and flecks of blood came out of his mouth.

Lily grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked upwards, pulling it over his head and dropping the bloody fabric into the sink. She touched her wand to the wounds and began muttering an incantation she’d never thought she’d be grateful to know.

Slowly, much more slowly than she was comfortable with, the wound began to clot and scab over. When Lily was at last confident the curse had stopped taking Sirius’ blood, she put her wand on the counter and stood to grab a towel.

“Where did you learn that?” Sirius muttered weakly.

“Where do you think?”

He scoffed. “Oh, right. Snivellus. I should have guessed.”

Lily pursed her lips and ran the towel she’d procured under the tap. In the sink below, the water ran with the blood down the drain in an eerie pinkish colour. Her stomach churned and she backed away from the sink, pulling up a chair next to Sirius and beginning to clean the skin around his scab.

“He invented that curse back in school,” Lily explained, feeling she owed Sirius something.

“Did it tip you off that he’s rotten to the core when he came up with that curse, or did you make excuses for him like always?” Sirius threw back nastily.

She pushed against his scab, making him gasp in pain. “Don’t you forget, I just saved your life,” she warned. Lily went back to tending his wound, adding under her breath, “And not that it matters but he came up with it after I stopped being friends with him.”

“Then how do you know the counterspell?” challenged Sirius.

“Luck.”

Lily thought back on the cat she’d found Severus practising on back in sixth year. “Luck” wasn’t really the best word for it, but she didn’t feel up to explaining.

She finished wiping away the worst of the mess and took Sirius by the arm. Lily dragged him up the stairs and stripped him down, only blushing a little bit when she saw him entirely naked. She took clean clothes from Richard’s room and helped Sirius into them before putting him in her bed. Sirius was either too tired or too weak to argue, and he fell asleep almost instantly.

She went downstairs to hide the mess.

 

* * *

 

“Honey, I’m home!”

Lily’s heart stopped. “In the kitchen!” she called back, and took the shirt she’d been ridding of blood and threw it under the sink.

She spun around to see what else she’d left out and— _her wand!_ Lily made a mad dash over to the kitchen table and shoved her wand into the basket of spoons on the counter just before Richard arrived.

“You’re home early,” she said, trying not to pant.

“We had a half-day at work,” Richard said, leaning his briefcase against a leg of the table. “I thought I’d ask what you’d like for dinner.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Lily told him, rather touched by the offer. “I was going to cook up some chicken and potatoes.”

Richard’s eyes lit up. “Are you feeling better, then?”

She hesitated. Whatever he assumed was wrong with her, Lily knew as soon as she proclaimed herself well and whole again he would have questions. And she had no answers for him as of yet.

“A bit,” she offered, adding a tinge of weariness to her voice. With Sirius upstairs and in his current condition, it wasn’t much of a stretch. “I just thought making food would be good for me.”

Richard came over and wrapped his arms around her. Lily leaned into the hug, putting her head on his shoulder and letting herself relax a little.

“You know I’m always here for you, Lil,” he murmured. “You can tell me anything.”

She almost wished she could.

“I know,” she lied, pulling away. “What are friends for, right?”

“Right,” Richard agreed. “I’ll be in my study if you need anything, alright? Don’t hesitate to ask.”

Lily nodded and watched Richard as he picked up his briefcase and left the kitchen, breathing out a sigh of relief when his study door shut.

“Too close,” she whispered to herself. “Much too close.”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, after Richard had gone to bed, Lily woke Sirius with a gentle shake.

“ _What?_ ” he grumbled, attempting to turn over on his left side. He hissed and rolled back into a sitting position, clutching his wound.

“I brought you food,” she said, putting the tray on the bed in front of him. “I meant to bring it earlier, but Richard got home sooner than I expected.”

“Yeah, it’d be a bit hard to explain a handsome man sleeping in your bed,” Sirius joked weakly.

“I don’t think he’d mind too much,” Lily replied, counting up the number of times Paul had stayed over in Richard’s bed. She was due a good-looking bedfellow by now. “Besides, you can’t even sit up without using pillows.”

“Fair point,” he conceded.

Sirius proceeded to devour the leftovers from dinner she’d brought up, his manners as horrendous as a dog’s. She wasn’t surprised.

“Why did you come here?” Lily asked once he’d eaten most of his meal. “If I had a wound like that—if I didn’t know the countercurse—I would have gone straight to St. Mungo’s.”

“I got your letter,” he told her through a mouthful of chicken. “I suppose I thought you knew about it, the curse? I dunno _why_ , now that I’m not dying…why _did_ you send me that letter?”

Lily felt almost foolish.

“I haven’t seen James in ten days,” she admitted. “I was worried. After that meeting I kept thinking he was in danger…I thought that, if anyone would know if he’s alright, it’d be you.”

“Ten days isn’t a particularly long time,” Sirius said as he swallowed down some water. He took a hard look at her and then barked out an overly-loud laugh. “He _has_ been seeing you, hasn’t he?”

“Keep it down!” she hissed, glancing nervously at her bedroom door. “Yes, he has; what’s so funny about that?”

Sirius wiped his mouth with his hand. “He keeps telling me, ‘Nothing’s going on, Padfoot,’ and ‘I’m just out for a walk, Padfoot,’ and then he shows up at that meeting with you and still tries to convince me he’s not coming around. How often is it, then?”

“Er…” Lily didn’t know what to make of this. Why would James lie? “Almost every day, until—”

“Until the last ten days,” he finished, waving his right hand impatiently.

“Is he alright, then?” she pressed. If Sirius was so unconcerned, then James _had_ to be alive.

“Probably,” said Sirius, and her heart sank. “I haven’t seen him myself in, oh, about four days. That’s sort of the point, though, isn’t it? Not knowing where he is?”

Lily was utterly lost, and it must have shown because Sirius frowned.

“Did he not tell you where he was going?”

“No.”

“After the meeting, didn’t he tell you why he was talking to McGonagall?”

“We didn’t do a lot of talking after,” she said, attempting to keep the blush off her face.

Sirius leaned forward, grimacing at the pain in his side. “He’s protecting the Longbottoms.”

“The Longbottoms?” Lily searched her memory. There was a name, she’d read it in _The Daily Prophet_ ; what was it… “Frank Longbottom? The Auror?”

“And his wife, Alice,” he added, nodding. “You must have missed it; they got married after she graduated the Auror Academy. They’re in the Order—or, I mean they’re part of the Order, but they’re not fighting right now.”

“Why not?”

“Much more important things to do.”

Lily resisted the urge to strangle him. “Like what?”

Sirius had a fevered, hopeful glint in his eyes. “They have a son,” he breathed, “and he’s going to save the world.”

 

* * *

 

**XVI**

 

She let Sirius sleep it off; his temperature was boiling after all that blood loss, and Lily worried that she might not have reversed the curse entirely. He was babbling nonsense when she put him properly to bed, delusions about prophecies and the Longbottom’s son.

Lily slept on top of the bed, a blanket pulled over her, so that she could stay close in case something went wrong in the night she was on hand. Fortunately, in the morning before she went downstairs to make breakfast, she found his fever had broken.

Sirius didn’t wake the entire day unless she prompted him to eat or drink, and he fell back to sleep soon after he finished eating. Mosley stuck to his side with an almost pathological determination, only leaving for a few minutes at a time and constantly purring in Sirius’ presence.

She worried for him; these were the symptoms of recovering from Severus’ curse, she knew, but it was quite different to visit an unknown second-year in the Hospital Wing once or twice than it was to care for a dear friend on her own.

 _Sectumsempra_ , the incantation went.

It even sounded foul, the texture of it in her mind slimy and dark. _For enemies_ , Severus claimed when she’d caught him at it the first time on that poor cat. When Lily had recoiled in horror, he’d jumped up and profusely apologised, saying it was only in case of emergencies, he’d never truly use it unless it was on someone who deserved it, and there was a countercurse.

That was the last time Lily spoke amicably with Severus, when he’d taught her how to reverse his invention. She had already sworn him off by then but had hoped, without knowing how desperately she hoped it, that Severus still kept a good part of him intact.

When that second year…Billy…she couldn’t even remember his last name…when he ended up in the Hospital Wing and she’d seen the wounds, Lily had known then that there was no recovering her childhood friend.

And now it was Sirius with those wounds, one of her dearest friends, and Lily could only feel sick to her stomach at the thought of Severus Snape.

 

* * *

 

The next day was a Saturday, and Richard spent the morning in the kitchen, reading the papers for the week before retiring to his study.

Lily spent the entire morning tiptoeing around the house, hoping neither men would stumble into each other. The idea of explaining Sirius was daunting, because Lily had never quite separated Sirius Black and the Wizarding world in her mind and besides, at this late stage it would be calamitous to admit she’d been harbouring an old school friend in her room.

At last, when she heard the study door snap shut, Lily gathered up as much food and drink as she could carry and brought it upstairs on a tray. She was half-tempted to levitate it with magic but the idea that Richard might come out, even for a split second, kept her from pulling out her wand.

Sirius had woken up on his own and was playing with Mosley, who was on his back and batting at a dangling string with all four paws and open jaw.

“Not the brightest animal, is he?” Sirius commented when he saw Lily come in. “Seems to think he can catch it with his teeth.”

“He’s getting ready to bite it,” she pointed out. “Good to see you sitting up.”

“Good to be sitting up,” he said sincerely. “How long have I been here?”

“Almost two days,” Lily told him. She sat down and put the tray of food in front of him. “Do you remember me waking you up to feed you?”

Sirius frowned, dropping the string into Mosley’s eager grasp. “Almost. Like I dreamed it or something. I remember you healing me and then it’s all sort of…” He waved his hand around aimlessly.

“You were fairly loopy,” she said. “At one point you started talking about the Longbottoms’ son, saying he was going to save the world or some nonsense—”

He grabbed her wrist tightly.

“What did I say, exactly?” he hissed with wide eyes.

“I…I don’t remember,” said Lily, startled. “Just that…there’s a prophecy about their son, Neville. It was babbling nonsense, Sirius, I didn’t exactly write it all down.”

Sirius leaned back against the pillows and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. It recalled James’ movements so perfectly that Lily struggled to breathe for a moment.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that,” he muttered darkly.

“Surely you don’t think—”

“Lily, I don’t think, I _know_ ,” Sirius told her. “You can’t understand.”

“Oh?” she crossed her arms, feeling slightly offended. “Try me.”

He sighed and reached over to give Mosley a pet, which was received with a loud purr. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, “but I’ve also probably said most of it anyway. The thing is, you can’t say anything to anyone.”

“Who would I tell?” Lily murmured.

“There _is_ a prophecy,” Sirius said firmly. “There is. It was told to Dumbledore—James, Remus, and I were there. Not in the room, mind you, but outside it, standing watch. We weren’t expecting a prophecy, but if Dumbledore’s not at Hogwarts there’s always got to be someone with him. He’s a great wizard, greatest there was, but even he doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head.”

Lily nodded. “He’s the face of the resistance.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “And the three of us were waiting for him when this prophecy starts and…” His face darkened. “It was my fault. Snape somehow got through our perimeter and was eavesdropping on Dumbledore, and he _heard_ the first part of what that woman said—”

“ _What?_ ”

“Snape,” Sirius repeated irritably. “ _Snape_ , Lily. Severus Snape. He overheard the parts that Dumbledore let the three of us know, and he went to Voldemort with it. We tried to stop it. We tried hunting him down and stalled him long enough to put the Longbottoms in hiding after Neville was born, but we couldn’t stop him from telling Voldemort.”

Lily’s mouth hung open.

She wasn’t sure what shocked her most—that Sirius’ ramblings of a prophecy were truth, that Dumbledore of all people believed it, or that Severus had condemned a baby to death. All of it was…it was beyond her, far beyond her simple Cokeworth life.

And then it clicked. “That’s why you were here, in Cokeworth,” she breathed. “You said you were looking for Snape—it was about this prophecy, wasn’t it?”

“I came by every day, trying to catch his scent,” Sirius confirmed. “It was a good thing you let us know he’s not likely to come back to Cokeworth, but we still couldn’t find him in time.”

“But I don’t understand,” Lily said. “If the Longbottoms have been in hiding for weeks, if you know Voldemort knows about the prophecy by now, what on earth were you doing with Severus two days ago?”

Sirius grimaced. “He’s a _Death Eater_ , Lily. I saw him, and I took a shot at capturing him or…”

“Or killing him?” she finished shrilly. “You were going to _kill_ him?”

“He’s done plenty to deserve it,” Sirius snapped. “He invented a curse that kills people by bleeding them out—if I hadn’t come to you, _I_ would be the dead one. This isn’t dueling in the corridors anymore. I don’t need a lecture.”

“It’s personal for you,” she shot back. “You tried to kill him back when it _was_ dueling in the corridors, or have you forgotten?”

His face darkened more, if that was possible. “I haven’t forgotten. But it’s different. I know the difference now. I’m not going into it lightly; I know the weight of killing someone. It tears at your soul. No offence, but you don’t know the first thing about it, alright?”

“And thank Merlin,” Lily retorted. “I don’t _want_ to know the first thing about killing.”

“You aren’t any better than I am,” said Sirius cruelly. “Coward, stuck in Cokeworth. You might not have pointed the wand like the rest of us, but you haven’t fought at all and innocent people are dying because you’re keeping house.”

Lily’s chest tightened. She pushed back at the pressure behind her eyes. “Don’t you talk to me like that in my own house,” she told Sirius. “And do you go around telling all these ‘innocent people’ they’re cowards for not fighting, or just your friends?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Those innocent people are muggles and children, or they’re rubbish at magic,” he said. “You’re none of those things. You’re amazing with a wand. You beat out James and I in Defence five years out of seven.”

“Four years,” she tried to correct.

“People like Snivellus,” Sirius continued, talking over her, “they’ve got talent and they use it to torture anyone who can’t stand up for themselves, and you used to be the sort of person who would step between him and everyone else. And I look at you, and I think what you could be doing, and I almost hate you for sitting by and letting it all happen.”

It was a slap in the face. “I’m not sitting by,” she protested weakly. “I went to that meeting with James, didn’t I?”

“One meeting,” he shot back. “One meeting, after which you came back home and did nothing but worry about James, and he spent days on end protecting a newborn baby from the darkest wizard Britain has seen in a long, long time.”

She frowned, hating that Sirius could make her feel like this. “He didn’t tell me where he was going! Of course I worried. I…I got used to seeing him every day, alright?”

Sirius snorted. “He’s better than I am at keeping secrets from you—well, he’s had more practise. What, would you have come along with him if you’d known?”

“Maybe!”

The word flew out of her mouth unbidden, much louder than she’d intended.

He peered at her. “You know, I don’t think you’re lying.”

“Oh, well, _thank you_ ,” Lily said sarcastically. “That’s what all my guests say after I save their life and feed them and keep them in my bed for two days. Really, you shouldn’t have.”

Sirius pursed his lips, as if realising he’d been too harsh. He reached out a hand to Lily but she stood up to keep from touching him.

“You’ll be better in a couple of days,” she told him. “I expect you to Disapparate as soon as you are able and leave my _cowardly life_ in peace.”

“Lily—”

“No _don’t_ say anything,” said Lily. She was barely holding back her tears. “Just…you’ve made your opinion of me perfectly clear.”

She turned on her heel and left before Sirius could throw more diatribe her way, staunchly ignoring how every charge he’d leveled at her had an echo of truth behind it.

She didn’t want to think about it.


	7. XVII-XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please note there is use of a homophobic slur in this chapter.

**XVII**

 

(1978)

“He’s going to Hogsmeade with Mellie Newcastle on Valentine’s Day.”

“He didn’t tell me about it,” said Sirius, throwing up his hands.

“He’s going to Hogsmeade,” Lily repeated, her voice icy, “with _Mellie Newcastle_. I didn’t even realise he _liked_ that cow!”

“She’s not a cow, and he didn’t tell me about it!”

Lily threw herself onto the couch in front of the fire, throwing her feet atop Sirius’ legs and draped herself there miserably.

“Isn’t he supposed to tell you everything?” she continued miserably. “That’s what best mates _do_ , right?”

“Look, Lily, he didn’t mention it,” Sirius told her again with no small amount of exasperation. “We’re not girls, yeah? We don’t talk about our feelings all the time. I’m sure he’ll bring it up sooner or later.”

“I just would have liked to find out somewhere other than the courtyard, in front of _everyone_ , with her all draped up against him like a trollop.”

“And I’d like to have a conversation with you that isn’t about James, but that’s probably never going to happen,” he replied, flipping through his book absently.

Lily groaned and dropped her head against the arm of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It had been torture, especially Mellie’s triumphant grin that Lily couldn’t help but feel was for her in particular, although that was silly—her feelings for James Potter weren’t common knowledge.

In fact, quite a few people had assumed at the beginning of the school year that Lily was with Sirius and had invented a wild story of James and Sirius’ duel for her heart. She and Sirius found the rumours amusing.

Sirius let out a loud, long-suffering sigh after several minutes. “Alright, then.”

“Alright what?” she asked, lifting her head to frown at him.

“I’ll take you to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s Day,” he said, as though she’d been badgering him for hours on the subject.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Lily demanded. “Weren’t you saying the other day how Valentine’s Day was the best chance to get off with girls?”

“Yeah, but Mellie Newcastle can’t be the only girl on a Marauder’s arm,” Sirius answered dryly. “Come on, it’ll be brill. Who else would you go with anyway, Devon Larkin?”

She cringed.

 

* * *

 

Lily had just seen Richard off and was setting aside some breakfast for Sirius when she heard a knock on the front door.

Her stomach dropped. Surely not, surely she was just getting her hopes up…

The knock sounded again.

“One moment!” she called, frantically wiping the grease from her fingers. She hurried to the front door and pulled it open.

“Is he here?” asked James. He had a bruise on one cheek and dark circles under his eyes, but other than that appeared to be in one piece.

She wasn’t surprised; all the same, her chest loosened at the sight of him. Lily stood back and wordlessly let James into the house. The second she shut the door she turned to face him.

“I’m looking for—”

Lily slapped him soundly across the cheek. The sharpness of it rang in the air and on her palm, and in James’ startled, hurt eyes.

“How _dare_ you?” she hissed, tears springing to her eyes unbidden. What on earth was with all the crying lately? “I didn’t hear from you for two weeks, and you come back here like it’s nothing? Like I haven’t been sick with worry over you?”

“I…”

She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him fiercely, almost angrily. She breathed in the woodsy smell of him in between kisses, felt the softness of his skin and the extra warmth where she struck him.

James returned her kisses, tentative at first and then with as much force as she. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, tugging on her skin uncomfortably. It was hard to care.

When it became too hard to stand up, Lily pushed herself away and leaned up against the front door. It was cold on her back.

“How dare you?” she repeated softly.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to leave you,” James mumbled. “I thought I could get away from what I was doing for a few minutes here and there—wouldn’t have been enough, but I’d still see you—but there were so many close calls that I just couldn’t leave. I’d tell you all about it if I could but—”

“You were protecting the Longbottoms,” she interrupted.

James’ mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?”

“Sirius,” she said. “He’s upstairs. He’s resting!” she added as James turned and dashed up the stairs.

Lily followed at a slower pace, trying not to feel miffed that Sirius was a higher priority to James than she. It was a petty, useless emotion to have at a time like this.

Before going down to make breakfast, Lily had seen Sirius was resting, which she preferred after their fight two days previous. But with James here, Sirius was sitting up and had been awake for apparently some time. He and James were in conversation, inaudible to Lily, and they stopped as soon as Sirius caught sight of her.

“You’re up,” she said unnecessarily.

“Yeah…what was going on downstairs, anyway?” asked Sirius.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily told him, determinedly not meeting James’ eyes. “Let’s see how you’re healing up today.” She went around the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers.

“I came off shift early this morning,” said James as Lily set about unwrapping Sirius’ bandages. “From…the Longbottoms. I went by your flat and saw all the blood—”

Sirius grimaced when she peeled off the last of the wrappings. “Yeah, you can thank Snivellus for that.”

“I recognised your handwriting on that note,” James went on, addressing Lily now. “Only I didn’t want to come by with Richard…I waited until he left.”

“Everything looks fine,” she muttered. “I’ll leave the bandages off for a few hours to air it out.”

Honestly, she didn’t know if airing out a curse wound was a good idea or not, but Lily wanted to get out of this room with these men, both of whom she was angry with and whom she loved, though in wildly different ways. It might be her room, but she certainly didn’t feel welcome, and she gathered up the discarded bandages before fleeing to the safety downstairs.

 

* * *

 

Nearly an hour later, James made his way downstairs and joined her in the sitting room.

“Are we not going to the kitchen anymore?” he said lightly.

“I’m still angry with you,” Lily told him, looking toward the fireplace.

James sat down next to her, leaving enough space to be respectful. “I’m truly sorry,” he said. “If I’d thought you would worry so much I would never have left without telling you I might not be back. You have to believe me.”

“I do believe you,” said Lily. She looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. “I do. That only makes me angrier. Why on earth would you think I wouldn’t worry over you?”

He didn’t answer.

“I went to Diagon Alley,” she continued after a minute. “To buy an owl. I had some idea that, I dunno, there’d be a few windows smashed in or some stands pushed over. I wasn’t expecting—”

“It’s all gone,” James murmured. “The war has destroyed so much in the name of freedom, on both sides. You can’t even go outside anymore. Cokeworth’s nice; it’s not burnt to a crisp.”

“It might not be a smoking ruin, but Cokeworth isn’t nice,” Lily refuted. “It’s slow and smells of soot, and nothing ever happens here. Nothing starts in Cokeworth, only goes to die here.”

“We started here,” he pointed out. He put a hand on her cheek and she met his gaze at last. A wide grin bloomed on his face. “I still can’t quite believe it.”

Lily felt her anger melt away, at least a small part of it, the immediacy of it. She turned her head just a little and planted a kiss on the tip of his thumb. It struck her just how deeply she was in love with his hands, the texture and shape of them and they way he held her with them.

She kissed his thumb again before saying, “Only that. Nothing else.”

“Maybe,” he allowed. James cleared his throat. “Sirius told me you saved his life.”

“I did,” Lily said uncomfortably.

“He said that it was a curse Snape came up with, and Snape taught you the counterspell,” James prompted.

She took his hand and tugged it from her cheek. “In sixth year. When we weren’t friends anymore.”

“I wasn’t judging you,” he said kindly. “I just thought that countercurse might be useful. If you didn’t know it, Sirius would be dead for sure.”

How was it that James had made her so uncomfortable with this talk?

“That was just luck.”

“I don’t think so,” said James. “You kept your head and you helped him. Loads of people would have done less in your position, and I know that’s true from personal experience. You did good, even if you don’t think so.”

“Sirius would say I didn’t do enough,” she muttered.

James ran his free hand through his hair. “Well, sometimes Sirius can be an ungrateful prat.”

“He might be right,” admitted Lily, saying it aloud for the first time.

“Do you _want_ to do more?”

She brought his hand back to her lips and pressed kisses on it, gentle as a breath.

“I think so,” she said after running out of new places to put her lips on his hand. “I think I do. I don’t think I can do nothing anymore.”

“Then you’ll do more,” said James, as though this was an easy matter.

Lily couldn’t help but smile at him. She’d thought that, after two months of near-constant interaction with James Potter, her heart would stop its skittering and leaping at the sight of him.

She’d been terrifically wrong.

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” she whispered.

“I forgive you,” he replied, and leaned forward to kiss her.

Lily’s smile spread and grew, impossibly, with each fresh kiss he gave her. This was the stuff of soft, warm dreams she’d long given up on.

“Why weren’t we doing this sooner?” he mumbled into her mouth.

And just like that, her heart sank a little. “You know why,” she answered softly. She stood up and brushed herself off uncomfortably. “I should probably check on Sirius’ wound.”

“Right,” James agreed, sounding dazed and not at all aware of what she meant. But Lily knew it would hit him later, and she almost felt bad for even bringing it up.

That small, petty part of her didn’t feel bad at all.

* * *

 

**XVIII**

 

Lily received a letter in the post the following day, after both Sirius and James had left. It was a formal invitation to Mr and Mrs Kern’s 60th Anniversary, and Lily nearly threw it in the trash on site.

She wanted less than nothing to do with Mrs Kern, and even less (if possible) to do with Meg West. As the “dutiful” granddaughter, Meg was sure to be in attendance. Lily remembered the last time Paul had brought his cousin to dinner, and aside from snooping through the upstairs, Meg had derided everything in the house from Lily’s cooking to the draperies.

But the thing was, an invitation from Mrs Kern could not go ignored. If the old bat was in any way snubbed, the offending party would be subject to rumours and public condemnation. That was exactly the sort of thing Lily and Richard needed to avoid.

She decided to leave the invitation laying open on the kitchen table—it would be Richard’s decision, not hers. Either way the night would end badly, there was no question of that, but Lily couldn’t be held responsible for the disaster.

How she spent the day was a little different; instead of cleaning or cooking, Lily locked herself in her rarely-used basement, reinforced the doors and walls with Impeturbable Charms, and set about pracitising her spellwork.

It had been two years since Lily used real, practical curses. Which was a shame, because Sirius had been right when he pointed out she’d been top (or nearly) top of her class in Defence Against the Dark Arts back in school. Lily had always possessed a natural flair for defensive magic.

But she was woefully unused to the wand movements the spells required. She had for so long practised only housework, and that was a different set of motions altogether. James had promised her a chance to get in the fight, however, so Lily rolled up her sleeves, propped her books open, and set about retraining herself to remember combative magic.

Lily carried on like this for some time, only stopping when she realised how very hungry she was. When she got upstairs, she saw it was nearly four in the afternoon, and she had not eaten anything since breakfast.

With a sigh, she pulled out some leftovers.

 

* * *

 

Richard’s eyes went immediately to the invitation on the table when they sat down for dinner a few hours later. He picked it up, scanning the words with interest.

“I didn’t realise they’ve been married for so long,” he mused. “Good on them, I suppose.”

“Good on Mr Kern for sticking around with that old bitch for sixty years, you mean,” Lily muttered, stabbing her potato moodily.

“Ouch,” said Richard in mild surprise.

Lily shrugged. “Am I wrong?”

“…No, I suppose not.” He chuckled. “I hope we don’t end up like them in fifty-eight years.”

She froze, clenching her fork tightly. It was a bit difficult to breathe—actual cold was coursing through her, settling in her bones and turning her blood to ice.

Richard spotted her distress. “I was only joking!” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t saying we’d be the Kerns, I was just taking the mickey.”

Lily forced herself to relax, putting down her fork with concentration and breathing in and out slowly. When at last she felt confident that her body would no longer seize up and betray her, she turned to Richard with a stern expression.

“You do know we’re not going to stay married for sixty years, don’t you?” she prompted.

“Of course not,” he said, looking shocked.

“Then you realise it’s not funny to say things like that.”

He leaned back in his chair a little. “I thought it was…because, y’know…we’re obviously not going to have a sixtieth anniversary.”

Lily didn’t answer—it had just occurred to her that they might very well end up celebrating sixty years, still living in this house on Packer Street. Perhaps they would have a child, or even grandchildren, none of them knowing old Mr and Mrs Beauchamp were never once in love.

The thought put her in a mild panic.

“We should talk about when we’re going to separate,” she said and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“Now?” Richard’s eyes widened. “That’s…let’s just worry about one thing at a time. Perhaps try to get through the Kerns’ party without any major disasters?”

It was good, at least, that Lily was not the only coward in this marriage.

 

* * *

 

James came by the next morning. He had only just gotten through the door when Lily grabbed hold of him and dragged him to the couch. She pushed him onto his back and climbed atop him.

“Hello,” she said between kisses.

“Hi,” James mumbled. He reached up and pushed the hair out of her face. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” Lily dropped her lips to his neck and set about exploring every inch of his skin there.

“Mmmm…I’d say so,” he answered, stroking her hair absently.

She blushed—which was silly, considering how boldly she’d taken hold him—and ducked her face into the crook of his neck. “I thought you weren’t going to be here until tomorrow.”

“Surprise,” said James. His warm hands traveled down and rested on her waist. “I thought I’d come by and help you study.”

“Oh, _study_ ,” teased Lily. “Is that what we’re calling this now?”

“Oh, this sort of thing has been called _studying_ for quite some time now,” he pointed out, a laugh in his voice. She felt his chest vibrate against hers and smiled. “But I was talking about the more traditional use of the word, for once.”

She moved her head up to look at him. “Well that sounds boring.”

James’ glasses were crooked. This tiny little thing made her heart beat faster, and she knew James could feel it by the way he grinned widely.

“It really hasn’t just been me all along,” he marveled.

Lily peeled herself off of him, trying to hide how red her face was. “What sort of thing were you thinking of doing? With the studying, I mean.”

“Studying or _studying?_ ”

“James,” she said warningly, utterly helpless against her own amusement.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding not sorry at all. “I get to kiss you; I think it makes me a bit loopy.”

“Oh, a bit?”

He sat up and put an arm around her waist. “What sort of studying would _you_ like to do, then?”

She answered him with another kiss.

They did, eventually, make their way down to the basement and go through the spellbooks. James was helpful in that he knew which sort of curses and jinxes were useful in a fight, and which were showy and unhelpful. He narrowed Lily’s field of focus to more of the attacking spells, claiming that “a good offence is the best defence.”

There was nothing like dueling another skilled wizard.

Lily had quite forgotten the thrill of it, the way her heart pumped and the adrenaline raced through her. It was in the middle of a spirited practice duel with James that she remembered _she loved magic_.

She loved wielding a wand and casting spells. She was enraptured with her ability to make something out of nothing, to summon and conjure and defy possible with a flick of her wrist.

She _loved_ it.

How on earth had she let herself be parted from it?

The duel was won by her hand, her wand at James’ throat and his own wan flung across the basement floor. He looked down at her in surprised delight.

“You’re amazing,” he observed, stepping back. “I yield.”

“I’m not amazing,” Lily said as she put her wand hand at her side. “I got lucky that round.”

“Well, perhaps, but that’s not what I meant,” James replied. He turned in the direction his wand had flown and started searching. “You…I dunno, you light up when you’re using magic. You’ve got this glow about you…I haven’t seen you that alive in years.”

She pushed her hair out of her face. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he answered as he got down on his hands and knees. Lily couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at his bum…less of a glance, really, and more of a _study_. “I knew there was something different about you, right from the moment I first showed up at your door. Something was…you looked drained.”

“I know, you came back and asked if I was alright,” she pointed out.

James nodded, still scrambling around. “I think not using magic is bad for you.”

“Or, as Sirius pointed out, it’s bad for everyone else,” said Lily. She still felt a twinge of guilty anger at the memory of Sirius’ tirade.

“Perhaps, but I meant you,” he said, standing up with his wand. He turned to face her and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I don’t think it’s healthy for you.”

Lily pursed her lips. “I don’t think that’s a real health problem, James.”

“Probably not,” he allowed, “but I know what I see. Again, then?”

She moved into position, bringing her wand up again.

 

* * *

 

**XIX**

 

“Paul says we’re supposed to make a dish to bring to the Kern party,” said Richard.

Lily dropped her book in her lap. “What?”

“I was talking to him at work today about his grandparents’ anniversary and—”

She ignored him, instead dashing into the kitchen and grabbing up the invitation. She scanned every word, looking for some mention of this supposed dish. There was no mention of it that she could find.

“That _bitch!_ ” Lily screamed, crumpling the invitation and throwing it across the kitchen.

Richard ran in. “What’s the problem?”

“That power-hungry, horrific excuse for an old woman!” she seethed. “Don’t you see what she’s doing?”

“Asking for dishes to bring to the party?” he answered, sounding lost.

“Oh, Richard, you sweet, stupid soul,” said Lily with a bitter laugh. “If you don’t bring a dish when other people do, you’re automatically considered a sub-par guest. If you _do_ bring a dish, then you’re a kiss-up and the guests who didn’t bring anything will resent you. Oh, she’s a clever bitch.”

Richard reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Lily, I’m sure it’s not that big of a—”

“Just because you’ve made absolutely no effort to understand women at any point in your life does _not_ mean I am flying off the handle for no reason!” she snapped. She grabbed the empty envelope off the table and shook it in his face. “This woman rules Cokeworth with an iron fist and she’s choosing to make it hell for everyone around her!”

He chuckled nervously. “Don’t be silly, I’m sure she simply forgot to put in on the invitation. You know she’s getting old—”

“Shut _up_ , Richard!” yelled Lily.

It was astonishing, really, how quickly the anger swelled up in her, ready to strike out at him. Considering the trigger, it was almost disproportionate, but Lily let it fly anyway, past the point of worrying over Richard.

“You think this is easy, living at home and taking care of all these things?” she demanded. “Neighbors gossip! Rumours float around! And it’s my job to keep watch for things that can hurt us—hurt _you!_ —and you don’t give a rat’s arse!

“Don’t you understand that she’ll ask _why_ we show up with a dish? _Oh, Paul told Richard_ —what are you doing talking to Paul about silly party things? Do you two talk? Well, then she’s going to keep her eye on the pair of you, and you know what happens then—then you’re the fairy of Cokeworth and I’m the disgraced housewife who turned her husband away from women!”

Richard stared. “Of course I talk to Paul about _silly party things_ ,” he said, for the first time sounding irritated. “We’re not just…what we are, we’re mates. He’d obviously tell me about bringing a bloody dish to the Kerns’ party.”

Lily pointed at him, probably looking deranged. “You can’t even say it!” she yelled accusingly. “I’ve given up my _life_ for you! I could have a _job_ , high-paying, living on my own, or married to someone I’m in love with! I’ve become a _fucking housewife_ for you and you can’t even say what you are!”

“What? Do you want me to say it?” Richard yelled back.

“Yeah!”

“Fine! I’m a fucking faggot, _are you happy?_ ”

“ _No!_ ” screamed Lily. “You let Paul and his family stomp all over you and he’s _never_ going to do for you what you do for him! He’s _never_ going to love you the way you love him! For fuck’s sake, Rick, Mrs Kern is the bloody reason you and Paul can’t ever be together!”

“No she’s not!” he shouted at her. “No, she’s _not_ , Lily! She might be a problem but in case you’ve forgotten who the Beauchamps are—” Richard began to tug at his shirt, but she didn’t want to see the scars from where Mr Beauchamp switched his son bloody.

“I haven’t forgotten a damned thing,” she hissed. “Who the hell do you think has kept your secret all these years? Petunia?”

Richard threw up his hands. “Then what the hell is this all about, Lily? Alright, I didn’t understand what Mrs Kern was doing, does that make me a horrible person?”

“No, _that_ doesn’t,” she said cruelly, and stomped out of the kitchen and up to her room. It was only after she slammed the door did Lily realise her book was still downstairs.

 

* * *

 

The party was three nights later, and as they walked over (Lily’s spinach puffs in Richard’s grasp), a coldness ran between them that had nothing to do with the summer night air. Lily was still seething at Richard for reasons she didn’t fully understand, and Richard had not yet forgiven her for going off on him.

As they neared the Kern house, however, Lily moved closer to her husband.

“Smiles,” she said in a low voice. “We’re deeply in love, remember?”

“I’ll try,” he muttered back. “It’s isn’t as though I’ve had practice or anything.”

“Just think of Paul,” said Lily, knowing it was cruel.

“I always do,” he shot back, and plastered a convincing beam onto his face before she could even register the sting. “Mrs Kern! So lovely for you to invite us!”

“Oh, Richard, look at you!” Mrs Kern said with a smile. She brought her wizened old hands to his face. “Oh, you didn’t have to bring anything with you!”

 _Like hell_ , Lily thought darkly.

“Well, Paul had mentioned how much he loved Lily’s spinach puffs the last time she made them and we thought it’d be a good idea to bring them over,” said Richard. At least he had a creative response ready; that was a relief. Lily smiled widely when Mrs Kern looked to her.

“Is that sweet of you,” the old hag cooed. “Lily, dear, Meg has been so excited to see you all day. Meg, darling!” she waved into the house.

Lily kept the grimace off her face with some difficulty. Of _all the things_ —

“There you are, Lily!” Meg West said, sounding for all the world as though she and Lily were the best of mates. “Come on in, we’ve all just been chatting up a storm!”

She let herself be dragged off by Meg, blowing a kiss at Richard as she left. He gave a convincing, if a bit cheesy, grab for the blown kiss and mimed tucking it in his pocket. It was another code between them; it meant to stay on hand in case of emergency.

Lily doubted Richard would actually stay on hand.

“Lily, you know Delilah Grant,” Meg said, pushing her into a circle of colourfully dressed women. “You were in the same year of primary school!”

“Delilah Young, I remember,” Lily greeted her kindly. “I didn’t realise you were married!”

“Oh, of course!” Delilah exclaimed.

Lily didn’t know what was “of course” about getting married, but she nodded and smiled. She was warm and polite to every single woman Meg introduced her to, and finally, when the introductions were over with, she let herself drift in and out of the conversation without much care to the topics.

But naturally, as soon as Lily began to let her guard down, Meg pulled out her latest piece of gossip against Lily.

“You know, my mother and I were having tea with Mrs Masterson the other day, and she mentioned you’ve had a gentleman caller the past two months, Lily.”

Lily cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?”

“A handsome gentleman caller,” the aforementioned Mrs Masterson chimed in. “Tall, with glasses and fantastic hair—surely you know who I’m talking about, Lily dear, you greet him at the door with such enthusiasm.”

A bead of sweat began making a trail down her back. “Well, I can hardly be uncordial,” she said, stalling for time.

She’d forgotten—how could she?—that it wasn’t just Richard the neighbors would watch. Of course not, Lily was the one who sat at home all day! And nosy Mrs Masterson from across the street had seen James.

“Enthusiasm?” the circle of ladies closed in, all but licking their lips in anticipation of juicy scandal.

Lily forced herself to smile carelessly. “Well, yes! He’s our contractor!”

“Contractor?” pressed Meg with an evil glint her eyes. “What exactly is that for?”

“We—Richard and I—we’ve been looking into fixing up our basement,” she answered off the top of her head. Oh, Merlin, she was in such trouble! Why had she not thought this through sooner? “It’s so dingy and unpleasant, and Richard said when we moved in that I could renovate it and now we’re going ahead with that. And this man isn’t charging us much.”

“Goodness, isn’t that kind of him?” said Delilah. “I wonder if I could have his number when you’re done with him; I’ve been meaning to alter my kitchen!”

Lily’s possessiveness flared up a second before her panic did. She didn’t want to share James with anyone, it seemed. “He’s moving to London in a few weeks,” she answered, trying to act sympathetic. She turned to Mrs Masterson. “That’s why he comes by so often, you see.”

“I haven’t noticed him carrying any tools,” the older woman replied, a polite smile on her face.

“Well, that’s because he leaves them in the basement,” said Lily, as though Mrs Masterson was completely stupid. “Who on earth wants to carry all those tools along?”

“Richard, there you are!” called Meg sweetly. She waved him over and he came. Lily felt her heart drop to her toes. “Richard, we were just talking about your contractor!”

“Contractor?” he repeated, sounding confused.

Meg’s smile widened. “The one who’s been coming over so often to take care of Lily’s basement!”

Lily could have kicked her. Richard frowned in confusion at Meg and glanced to Lily, who widened her eyes and hoped that somehow, he would back her up.

Her prayers were answered. “Oh, _Simon!_ ” he said, hitting his head. “Goodness me, I’d completely forgotten; he always comes round when I’m at work. Lily, darling, you _did_ pass along that invitation for dinner next week?”

“I haven’t yet,” she answered, pasting a rueful expression on her face. She wanted hug him. “He’s always so focused on his work.”

“Well, the basement _has_ been improving,” said Richard. “Meg, you’ll have to come over when it’s finished.”

Meg grinned unconvincingly at the pair of them. “I certainly shall,” she said through clenched teeth. Clearly she was angry her prize had escaped her, and she hadn’t yet learned to mask it the way her grandmother did so well.

Richard stuck by Lily’s side for the rest of the evening, probably realising they’d just dodged a bullet. As the pair of them left, waving goodbye merrily, he leaned over to her.

“What on earth was that about a contractor?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered. She could do enough worrying for the both of them.


	8. XX-XXII

**XX**

 

The second Lily heard the knock on her front door she dashed to answer it, and then paused. If she pulled James inside, it would look suspicious. She should act as though his arrival was nothing to worry about…shouldn’t she?

He knocked again.

Lily tugged the door open and smiled politely. “Come on in,” she said, ushering James inside. He frowned in confusion at her tone but stepped across the threshold nonetheless.

Before joining him, Lily half-stepped out onto the front porch and gave a little wave. As soon as she’d done this it dawned on Lily how stupid that was—she quickly stepped back inside and shut the door firmly.

“What was all that about?” asked James, a laugh in his voice.

“Hello,” Lily said distractedly. She hurried past him and into the sitting room.

“No kiss?”

She continued forward, throwing herself onto the sofa in front of the window and grabbing the curtains. “The neighbours are noticing your visits; you should come in from the back door from now on,” she told him anxiously. She peeked out the window, wondering if Mrs Masterson was doing the same.

“Pardon?” he said, a hint of offence in his tone.

“The back door,” she repeated. Either Mrs Masterson was better than Lily at subterfuge, or James had managed to come at a time the old hag wasn't spying. “It leads into the kitchen; none of the neighbors will see. It's easier that way.”

James made a choking noise. “Excuse me, but _easier?_ ”

“I won't have to explain it to anyone,” Lily clarified. “Coordinating cover stories are a nightmare, you wouldn't believe how difficult—”

“No.”

Lily blinked. Surely she didn't hear that correctly—she straightened up from her hunch over the sofa and spun to look at James, who was fidgeting more than usual.

“No?” she prompted.

“I don't want to come in through the back door,” he said, managing to be both hesitant and determined.

She felt her stomach drop unpleasantly. “James, if anyone sees you,” she began.

“I don't care,” he burst out.

“You don't _care?_ ” Lily said, gaping. “You do realise I'm living a lie every day, one that effects both myself and my husband? You realise that I can't afford to make mistakes? Richard and I both need to seem as though we've got everything together or our lives will be turned upside down, and you don't _care?_ ”

“Yes— _no!_ ” James answered. He tugged at his shirt hem frantically. “I care what happens to you but I…but I…”

His hands went to his pockets, then his shirt hem again, his hair, swinging wildly about, trying to find an anchor.

At last, with his thumbs hooked into the eyelets of his blue jeans, James said in staccato, “I don’t want to be the…the bloke who has to…I want to be the one who—who gets to come in through the front door. I don’t want to _hide_ , I want to… _not care_ what people think of us because we’re…” he gestured back and forth between them awkwardly.

A warm flush traveled down to her toes and then back up to the roots of her hair.

“What are you trying to say?” Lily pressed. She knew what he meant; she wanted to hear him say it like she hadn’t wanted anything in a long. Long time.

James shook his head and pasted a smirk on his face. “Besides, it’s kind of run, isn’t it? Risking getting caught, sort of adds to the excitement.” He stepped closer to her.

She held up a hand. “It really isn’t. This might just be a stop-off for you, James, but I live here and I have to keep up appearances with the neighbours. If my husband and I don’t look the happy couple—”

“Don’t call him that.”

Lily blinked. “Don’t what?” She was more than a little frustrated at this second interruption; it was almost as though James wasn’t listening to her at all.

“Your husband,” he mumbled. “Don’t call him your husband.”

“That’s what he is.” It was cruel to bait him, she knew.

“Yeah, _technically_ , but—when you say it, it makes all this…” James ran both hands through his hair. “I’m not doing a very good job of this. Look, Lily, I know we haven’t been at this very long, but I don’t want you to belong to anyone else. I mean, you don’t _belong_ to anyone, but if you did, well…I’d like it to be me. Just me.”

The air between them was thick and heavy and charged; it was hard to breathe. Lily knew— _she knew_ —that something was about to happen, something she’d wanted for years and never really put away, not even when she though he was dead—and then he broke the moment.

“I didn’t come here to talk about this,” James mumbled, really mumbled, not just his half-mumbling way of speech. He looked away and hid his eyes behind his glasses. “I managed to get a moment alone with Dumbledore and I asked him if you could join the Order properly. He wants to talk to you.”

Lily should have been excited at this news, but a bitter disappointment surged within her.

 _Not again_.

For James’ benefit, she pasted a smile on her face. “That’s wonderful—are we meeting with him now?”

“Yeah. Come on,” he said, with a sad sort of smile, “let’s go out the back door.”

 

* * *

 

They had arrived once again at Dumbledore’s summer home, but the setting was remarkably different. Two Order members stood outside the front door, and Lily could see several more posted out in the moors if she squinted. There were probably even more, hiding in plain sight. She didn’t look closer to find out.

The two Order members at the door were identical—broad faces, flaming red hair, and stances that convinced Lily they were not to be trifled with. She could almost remember their names; she had seen them in a photograph or two in _The Daily Prophet_ once, back at school.

“Who’s she?” asked the one on the right, nodding at Lily.

“Dumbledore asked to see her,” James answered. “She’s alright, Fabian.”

 _That’s what it was_ , Fabian Prewett and his brother…she still couldn’t recall.

Fabian inclined his head and let the pair of them pass. Lily smiled nervously at him, trying to convince Fabian Prewett that she wasn’t a threat. He didn’t return her smile.

Dumbledore was just inside, sitting alone at a small table and reading through a roll of parchment. He looked up when the door closed and Lily could swear his blue eyes went right through her. It was as though he could see all her flaws and mistakes, and she had to force herself not to shrink behind James.

She was here to prove she could be brave and do some good in the world. Hiding behind her… _whatever_ James was to her would prove she was only a coward.

“Miss Evans,” welcomed Dumbledore after a few moments’ pause. “Or, Mrs Beauchamp, as I’ve heard it is now. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

James had stiffened beside her at the mention of her married name. Lily moved forward, away from him, and went to stand in front of her old headmaster.

“I had the time,” she answered.

“James here says you want to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

“I do.”

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses. “Are you sure? I had planned on recruiting you after you left Hogwarts, but you had moved on to live a Muggle life. What’s changed?”

Lily fidgeted; she suddenly knew the appeal it held for James to constantly squirm and fidget and move about. Standing still under this sort of scrutiny was so uncomfortable it was nearly painful.

“Nothing,” she admitted. “Nothing’s changed. I just…I dunno, I thought I could help.”

“I don’t ask this to be rude,” Dumbledore said gently, “but why would we need help from a Muggle housewife? There are plenty of good fighters in the Order already? Why would we need you?”

Lily opened her mouth and closed it. For the life of her, she had no answer to give.

“She’s a fair fighter,” James jumped in for her. “Even out of practice she’s—”

“Thank you, James, but I didn’t ask you,” the old headmaster reprimanded. “I asked Mrs Beauchamp.”

“Lily,” she corrected without thinking. And then it came to her. “I know the counterspell to a curse Severus Snape invented,” she announced. “I already used it to save Sirius Black’s life. He’d be dead without me. My house can be used as a safe house if necessary, and I don’t have a job so you can use me whenever you like.

“I’m quick,” Lily went on, gaining speed. “I beat James when we were practicing the other day. I’m the best at potions that Professor Slughorn has seen in years, and I’m a natural at Defence. Even if I’m not in the field I can do all sorts of good, and I can cook. Even this place must need people who can cook.”

Dumbledore was smiling warmly. “Anything else?”

“I…I’m good at organising people—you know that, I was Head Girl. I keep my head in a crisis. I’m resourceful and talented and you’ve really nothing to lose if I join.”

“I know,” the old headmaster told her.

Lily bit her lip to keep from grinning like a madwoman. “So you’ll take me?”

“I was going to take you from the start,” he replied. “I just thought you needed a little reminder.”

 

* * *

 

**XXI**

 

(1978)

“Tonight’s the night,” she told Sirius, and frowned when she realised he was more interested in snogging Melanie Harper than listening to her. _Typical_. She punched him hard on the shoulder. “Oy!”

“Oy!” he cried, breaking from his kiss. “What’s the matter with you, Evans? I’m busy here!”

“Keep your dorm clear of any _unwanted_ visitors,” Lily instructed, and then reconsidered her phrasing on account poor Melanie’s crestfallen face. “Including yourself—this was your idea, and you promised me you’d help me with it. So stay out.”

Sirius flapped his hand at her and turned back to Melanie.

It was, very likely, the best she would get from him. Lily turned away from Sirius in a huff and headed up the stairs to the boy’s dormitories, avoiding several overtly-drunk partiers on her way. It seemed everyone had turned out for the celebration—she even spotted a few non-Gryffindors amongst the chaos.

As Head Girl, she really should put a stop to all the rule-breaking, but tonight was the night and Lily couldn’t be bothered. She only hoped the Head Boy would be just as lenient.

Lily had only been in the seventh-year boy’s dorm once, back in December when Sirius had stolen her favorite jumper and she had to hunt him down to retrieve it. James hadn’t been in the room at the time, but Remus and Peter had, so she knew which bed to go to.

James was apparently very messy—she wouldn’t have guessed that. Lily started tidying up before remembering she wasn’t here to clean, and sat down on the half-made covers. After a few seconds, she lay back and stared up at the canopy.

It was…unpleasant for Lily to be left alone with her thoughts these days. Her mother’s health, for one thing, was a constant source of worry. For another, that awkward conversation during the Easter holidays about Richard Beauchamp and how attractive she looked sitting beside him. The entire ordeal had its own category of nerves that she buried under her studying for the N.E.W.T.s.

She’d rather think about James Potter.

Over the last few months, at least to Lily, it felt as though James was finally— _finally_ —warming up to her. He smiled more openly at her, laughed at her jokes, even teased her on occasion. Sirius had told her more than once that James was mad about her, but she hadn’t seen any proof until recently. Which was good, because as far as Lily was concerned she’d never be as much in love with anyone as she was with James.

The door opened with a soft creak; Lily sat up so fast her head spun for a moment.

James peered at her, his face scrunched in concern. “Thought I’d find you here,” he said.

Her heart sped up. Her body tingled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, um, I saw Sirius downstairs.”

He said it so carefully and pointedly. Lily couldn’t understand what Sirius had to do with anything, unless…he had helped after all and sent James up to her. That must be it. She’d have to give Sirius some sort of gift later.

She stood on shaky legs. “So you know.”

“I do, I know,” James mumbled, looking down at the floor. He was probably as nervous as she was; the thought filled her with delight.

Lily moved toward him slowly. “You played really well today,” she told him. “That last goal past Fowler, that was incredible. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Thanks,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I could barely believe it myself. Hufflepuff had a really good team this year; honestly, I half-expected us to lose.”

“Don’t be silly,” Lily teased. “No one can beat Gryffindor at Quidditch.”

“No, don’t jinx us,” laughed James, the concerned look almost completely dropping from his face. “We’ve still got Ravenclaw to beat in the final next month.”

“Which you will!”

“If we lose, I’m blaming you,” he informed her.

Lily shook her head. “I know you can do it. You’re incredible.” She reached out and took both his hands in her own. “And not just at Quidditch. Everything.”

James’ mouth formed a little ‘o’ in surprise. She smiled at the sight of it. She couldn’t wait to know what his mouth felt like, tasted like…Lily began to walk backwards, taking James with her, hoping she didn’t trip over her own feet.

“Er…” James managed.

“You know, I had my doubts about you,” she said. Her legs hit the bed, James’ bed, and she stopped moving. “When Dumbledore made you Head Boy—even though you’d improved so much, I just couldn’t believe…”

“I…er…I had some doubts myself,” he confessed.

Lily dropped his hands, which seemed to make him more comfortable. That was alright; he’d be comfortable enough with her in a few minutes.

“But the way you’ve stepped up and done your job,” she continued, her voice annoyingly breathy, “it’s admirable, really. I’m impressed.” She slid out her shoes, feeling stupid as she did so. She probably looked clumsy and childish, not attractive at all… _what was she doing?_ Talking about what a good Head Boy he was, that wasn’t going to get his interest up.

James’ eyes were wide. “Thanks, er…”

“That’s not it, though,” Lily added hastily. “You’re…you know how you are.”

This wasn’t going how she’d planned at all. Lily wanted to sound sexy, or confident, or even playful, but all she could manage was this awkward drivel.

The truth was, she was embarrassed at how desperately she was attracted to James, to every part of him. His cleverness and wit had her melting. His smile could stop her heart. She was at a loss of how to explain this, so she promptly gave up, instead reaching down and pulling her shirt over her head.

Lily hadn’t thought it was possible for James’ eyes to get even wider, but they grew to the size of saucers behind his glasses.

“What…what are you doing?” he breathed.

“Congratulating you,” she told him, ignoring the shaking of her hands. “On doing so well.”

“A-at Quidditch or as Head Boy?” stammered James. His gaze was fixed on her chest, though he did look back up at her eyes apologetically for a few seconds here and there.

Lily released a soft, nervous laugh. “Both. Either. Take your pick.”

“I…”

She bent down and pushed her skirt off her hips, letting it fall to the floor. “Take whatever you like,” she added in a low voice.

James did something unexpected then; he glanced at the door and then took several awkward steps back from her, covering his eyes in his hands and then running those hands through his hair before clasping them behind his head. He spun so that his back was facing her.

“Shit,” she heard him mumble.

Lily flushed—had she come off too strong? Humiliated, she sat back on James’ bed and tried not to show how embarrassed she was, but when she realised her socks were still on she nearly cried in frustration. Why on earth had Sirius suggested this, Lily shouldn’t have—she’d never done this sort of thing before, never done _anything_ like this before—

She bent down and peeled off her socks surreptitiously, hoping James wouldn’t turn around from his frozen position by Remus’ bed as she did so.

He did turn around eventually, but after one look at her on his bed, James began to shift his weight from one foot to the other and whipped his gaze from her again. Lily watched his movements with a growing sense of confusion; if Sirius had told him she was waiting for him, and how she felt, why was he staying away so determinedly?

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked.

James let out a loud groan. “Look,” he said, turning back to her, “I understand. I do. I’m not…not _judging_ you or anything. I’m flattered, if anything.”

Acidic shame started pooling in her stomach, though she tried to pretend she didn’t know why.

“James—” she started.

“I’m going to go downstairs,” said James, nodding rapidly. “I’m going to go back to the party, and…and tomorrow, when we see each other, we’ll just pretend nothing happened, alright? Nothing happened here.”

He looked so desperately, sickeningly hopeful, as though she would _want_ that—

And then Lily understood. James had come up here to turn her down, gentleman that he was. He wasn’t interested in her at all, not mad about her like Sirius had claimed. She embarrassed him with her infatuation, and he was offering her an out.

“Alright,” she agreed in a whisper, trying not to cry. “Thanks.”

James cleared his throat, still nodding his head up and down like a bobble-head doll. “Great. That’s…that’s all sorted then. I’ll just…” he swung around and headed toward the door, shutting it behind him gently as he left.

Lily burst into tears the moment she heard his footsteps fade.

 

* * *

 

**XXII**

 

As soon as the kitchen door shut behind them, Lily leaned against it and let out a triumphant laugh. “I’m in!” she said to James, for what was probably the tenth time.

“You’re in,” he confirmed, smiling.

Lily practically bounced to where he stood and flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” James murmured. His hands went to her waist where they rested, warm and exciting. She could feel his heart speed up a little, actually heard it when she pressed her ear to his chest. A deep, soft affection for this boy, this man, bubbled up inside her. Lily reached out and took both of James’ hands in her own, lacing their fingers together.

“You don’t know what you’ve done for me,” she told him.

“It wasn’t me,” he corrected her. James inclined his head to her gently, and she read his meaning. It had been her, she had been the one to get her entrance in the Order.

Lily tugged his hand, drawing him closer. “Thank you,” she said again.

His mouth curved into a smile, one edge quirked higher than the other. She loved that smile; she fell in love with it long ago. Lily leaned forward and kissed his smile, melting against him.

James’ lips opened, and he released a soft “Hmm,” into her mouth. It was a soft vibration that resonated down, down into her heart and into her stomach, and down lower. Possibly it was the adrenaline of joining the Order, or the excitement of remembering how much she loved herself, or perhaps it was the closeness of James, but her affection transformed into a hunger.

Lily pressed closer to him, forceful now in her kiss. She gave James’ tongue a light suck between her lips and released his hands to wrap her arms around his neck. Her fingers went to his hair, playing with the messy locks she’d so long wanted to bury her hands in. His hands went to her waist, just barely lifting her blouse up to touch the skin underneath.

She didn’t want light touches. To hell with “just barely.”

With some effort, she broke from the kiss, though she kept her hands in his hair. “Come with me,” she said in little more than a whisper. Lily began to back up out of the kitchen, taking James with her. As they neared the staircase she let go and turned to head up the stairs.

James wrapped his arms around her from behind and put his lips on her neck. “Where are we going?” he murmured in between dropping kisses on her throat.

It was hard to breathe under his touch. “Where do you think?” she breathed.

He paused for a moment, and her heart nearly burst in anticipation of what he might do next. It was a shock when he spun her around and pressed her up against the small wall by the stairs— _the place where they’d first kissed_ , Lily realised hazily. He was so close, she could smell him and…and feel him. She felt a hardness growing against her lower stomach that had her both blushing and panting in need.

His hands traveled from her hips to cup the sides of her breasts, his thumbs stroking just next to her nipples and Lily felt them harden, pressing against the fabric of her bra uncomfortably. She’d never known she could be aware of _that much_ , the sensitivity new and entirely welcome. It struck her that James might be just as sensitive, and a wild desire to find out had Lily reaching out and tugging at the hem of James’ shirt.

“Hey,” he mumbled, sounding out of breath. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to...” Lily trailed off, focusing on pulling off that damned shirt.

James reached at the back of his collar and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor carelessly. It was so definitively _male_ and so James that Lily felt a surge all over her body that left her trembling. She reached out and spread her hands across his stomach, and leaned forward to place her lips over his left nipple.

He let out a groan and put a hand on the back of her head, holding her to him. “Lily,” he said, like a prayer. “Lily, we…” James made a choking sound as she pressed her tongue to his chest.

She stepped back and stared at him, glanced down and felt her head spin at the sight of his obvious erection. “Are you coming or what?” she said before turning on her heel and dashing up the stairs. Lily just made it through the door to her room when she heard James thundering up the steps after her.

As he stepped into her bedroom, Lily grabbed the hem of her blouse and pulled it up over her head, dropping it at her feet. James’ eyes widened behind his glasses; he grabbed the doorframe to steady himself.

“Merlin,” he breathed, and then his expression dropped. “Lily, we shouldn’t—”

“No, we _should_ ,” Lily insisted. Her finger shook as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. It dropped from her slowly, joining her blouse on the floor. James’ eyes found her bare breasts and fixed on them. “We should,” she repeated softly.

With what seemed like a herculean effort, James shook his head and looked back up to her eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good—”

Lily felt shame washing over her, bruising her bare skin with invisible hurt. “No, you can’t—you _can’t_ say no,” she told him, hot tears pressing behind her eyes. “Not again, I can’t _take_ it! Don’t you…don’t you want me?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed unexpectedly loudly. “Years and years and— _of course_. Look at you, I…why wouldn’t I? But you’re still…even if it’s not real, you’re still married. Doesn’t that matter?”

“I don’t care,” Lily snapped. “Richard gets to have his lover; why shouldn’t I have mine? Why shouldn’t I have you? I’ve certainly waited long enough!”

James was frozen in the doorway, watching her with wide eyes and an open mouth. Lily wanted to strangle him nearly as much as she wanted him to touch her—she stepped forward, ready to pull him to her _yet again_ but suddenly he moved, quick as lightning, and his lips were on her lips and his hands were on her waist. Their bare chests brushed together and the heat of his skin made her gasp out loud.

“I do want you,” he mumbled into her mouth. “I _do_ want you.”

“Then _take me_ ,” Lily pleaded. What was it she had said that night? “Take whatever you like.”

The way his grip tightened on her waist let her know that he understood, he knew she was repeating herself. Would he leave her again?

James began to step forward, and she was forced to back up. Her legs hit the back of her bed and she fell back onto it gracelessly, her breasts jiggling painfully. James seemed to like this though; she saw his eyes darken at the sight and he bent down to put his mouth on her left nipple, returning the gesture from downstairs. He pressed his hand onto her other breast, kneading the soft mound with exploring fingers. Lily closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, on not passing out. Her heart was beating so fast it was a wonder it didn’t burst.

She tangled her fingers in James’ hair. His breath was hot and ragged on her breast, and he let out a sound she couldn’t identify. It reverberated into the depths of her chest and down, down between her legs. The rush of pulsing, insatiable heat caught her off guard and her whole body convulsed for a moment.

He began to move down, planting kisses under her left breast and then traveling over, paying the right side some attention. “James, please,” she moaned, not quite sure what she was asking him for. She heard—she _felt_ —his breath hitch for a moment, and then his lips dropped to her stomach. Another wash of heat pooled between her legs and she pressed her thighs together with whimper, gulping in breaths desperately.

His fingers scrabbled at the top of her skirt, trying to find pull it down—Lily put her hand to the side zipper and undid part of it before James grabbed her thighs and lifted her legs up. She watched in fascination as he tugged her skirt with one hand up, up, _up_ and off her legs—when had her shoes and socks disappeared? She didn’t remember that…

James returned his grip to her thighs and pushed her further onto the bed. Her head nearly hung off the other side and she dug her fingers into the covers while trying to breathe normally. His lips returned to her stomach, his hands holding her hips still.

Gradually, past the blood pounding in her ears, Lily grasped that James was babbling something into her belly button. It was the same thing over and over and she strained to make it out—

“ _I love you,_ ” he was murmuring, so softly that she imagined he didn’t even realise he was saying it aloud. “ _I love you, I love you, I love you…_ ”

Her heart hammered as though it was trying to break out and join his. “James,” she gasped. “James, I—”

“Shhh,” he told her, looking up and meeting her eyes. His glasses were slightly foggy; she found this strangely erotic and squeezed her thighs together again with a whine in the back of her throat. James let out a loud, broken breath. “Just relax,” he said in a whisper. “I’m going to—I’ll take care of you, alright?” For the first time, he looked nervous—she realised he wasn’t the only one with nerves.

Lily stared, her mouth dropping open, as James hooked his fingers under the top hem of her knickers and began to tug them down. She opened her legs a little to let the fabric go…and when it was gone from her she felt exposed and vulnerable.

“James,” she said, her voice high and tremulous.

He smirked, a reassuring sight. James slipped his hands under her thighs and parted them, slowly, watching her to see if she might object, but all Lily did was grip the comforter of her bed more tightly in frantic anticipation.

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, James lowered his mouth; so slowly that when his lips touched between her thighs she cried out in surprise. His tongue brushed her clit once, twice—Lily dropped her head back and scrabbled around for some sort of release, her hips bucking into his mouth involuntarily.

“James,” Lily said again. Her voice was low and dragged out his name for what felt like forever, and she closed her eyes as he gently slid a finger inside her.

This was so new to her, so _unexpected_ , so…wondrous. This was heaven.

This was James.


	9. XXIII-XXIV

**XXIII**

 

Lily was quite sure she’d never move from her bed. A hazy, sated heaviness settled in her bones, and she wanted to lie there forever, resting her head on James’ shoulder. His breathing had softened into something so peaceful she could almost imagine he was asleep.

But she knew he wasn’t; how could he be?

She kept stealing glances down his naked body. It was still unbelievable, almost, that he’d been _inside_ her. She’d felt it, felt the bizarre fullness and the aching, unyielding want for him, but feeling him and seeing raw proof was another thing altogether. Lily had just glanced down again when she felt James’ chest vibrate under her palm in a soft chuckle.

“You don’t have to be so sneaky, you know,” he told her. She heard the smile in his voice. “We’re a bit past that now.”

“I know,” she said. “I just…I haven’t ever…”

“I noticed.”

Lily pretended a blush hadn’t spread across her cheeks at his words. “There’s no need to sound so smug about it.”

“Sorry,” said James, completely insincere. She didn’t mind.

“Was…” her voice faltered, but she pressed on. “Was I alright?”

“Don’t ask that,” he said. There was a determined snap to his words, surprisingly clear and free of his usual half-mumble. “That’s a silly question. You were you, and that’s all I wanted.”

Lily turned her head and planted a kiss on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he confessed. She looked to his face and saw James was sporting a faint blush of his own. “Years and years, I—I mean, not just this. You.”

The admission flooded her with a warm wave of happiness. James Potter loved her; she’d heard him say so. It was the sweetest victory she could ever have hoped to achieve, something she’d wanted for so long and had long given up hope. James Potter loved her, and she loved him, and somehow things would turn out alright…

Against her will, a seed of doubt grew in her thoughts.

Lily, with some effort, rolled to her side and propped her head up on her elbow, looking down at James. He smiled up at her and she almost forgot to ask.

“Years?”

“Mhmm,” James answered, reaching up to play with a lock of her hair. He pressed it to his lips.

“How long?” she pressed.

He frowned slightly. “Let’s see…you know I fancied you some in fourth and fifth year—run of the mill sort, nothing terribly special…it was sometime in sixth year, I think. Not quite sure when it happened, but I realised it after we did that Herbology project together.”

That was when James started acting shy around her, quieting in her presence and not attempting to flirt with her. Lily remembered—that was when Sirius had to take up the slack and began flirting for the both of them. He’d really loved her as long as that? But then…

“If you wanted me so badly, why…what happened that night?” said Lily. Her voice cracked.

James froze. “I…we…”

“Didn’t you want me?” she whispered, throat tight and restrictive.

“Of course I did,” he exclaimed with widened eyes. “Of course! But the timing just wasn’t right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I wanted you to want me for _me_ , and not because of something…I really…”

James was giving her a very significant look, as if hoping she’d finish his sentence. For her part, Lily was entirely wrong-footed in this conversation. Something apparently very important had gone undiscovered by her and there was an empty hole in her memory where this “something” should have gone.

Lily shook her head slowly, frowning in confusion.

He sighed. “Well, you were in love with Sirius then, weren’t you? And you were angry with him—I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret later, especially with me. If it was going to be us I wanted it to be for the right reasons.”

She blinked.

Everything he said had turned into white noise, save for “you were in love with Sirius”.

_In love with Sirius._

Sirius?

Lily rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling trying to sort out this…this strangeness. When had she ever… What had he…

_“I saw Sirius downstairs.”_

_“So you know.”_

_“I do, I know.”_

Oh.

 _Oh_ …She’d assumed James had spoken with Sirius, but Sirius had still been snogging Melanie Harper, hadn’t he? So James had thought…

Her head spun as conversation after conversation replayed in her memories, thousands of sideways glances and grimaces from James, countless strange moments in seventh year that she’d brushed off as something trivial or unrelated to her, and—all that time, he’d gotten it into his head that she’d been pursuing another boy, his best friend at that—

_“I should tell you, I was a bit jealous for a while.”_

_“Of me?”_

_“No, of…him.”_

He’d brought her pictures of herself with Sirius, hadn’t he? He must have thought she’d like that—and she had, but not for any reason James had come up with.

Lily put a hand to her head, willing her mind to stop racing. She could figure out all the missed moments later; this was a moment she was determined to hold on to.

She rolled back onto her side and faced James again. He was watching her warily.

“Idiot,” she said. James blinked in surprise. “Wasn’t I always saying Sirius wasn’t my type? Why would you go ahead and think something silly like that?”

“I—you were always together,” he answered hesitantly. “The way you’d sit alone and talk, and…you were always bringing him up…I know the signs—”

“You don’t know anything,” Lily shot back. “It was always about you. Me and him? It started because of you. I’ve never, _not once_ , I’ve never even fancied him. Why on earth would I, when there was you?”

James stared up at her, his mouth slightly open.

“You broke my heart that night,” she went on, a pressure behind her eyes. “I cried for days because I loved you and you said you wanted to forget the whole thing—”

James reached out and put a hand to her cheek, pulling her to him and kissing her mouth gently. She closed her eyes and let him; she wouldn’t ever turn away a kiss from James.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in between kisses. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Lily told him once he broke away at last. “You should be sorry.”

“I am,” he said. James sat up and wrapped his arms around her, his chin on the top of her head. “I didn’t realise—I never thought—this has been almost unreal, since I first showed up on your doorstep here, you wanting me like I want you—”

“Idiot,” she said again. “I always have.”

“You’ll never cry because of me again,” James promised. “Not even once.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to be protecting the Longbottoms again,” he told her later as he tugged on his pants. “In two days. It’ll be for a little over a week.”

Lily watched him dress, regretting the clothing that covered him in her place yet admiring the way he moved. He really _had_ found his gracefulness on the ground at last.

“Is it dangerous?” she asked.

James shrugged. “It can be, but the safe house I’m moving them to has all sorts of wards and protections. They’ll be well-protected, and hopefully I’ll find some time to come and see you.”

“Don’t,” said Lily, alarmed at the thought. “You can’t leave them.”

“They’re both Aurors, Lily,” he pointed out as he put one leg into his trousers. “They could handle being alone for ten minutes.”

“But you can’t,” she insisted. “If something were to happen while you were gone—” An idea struck her. “Couldn’t I come with you?”

James paused, his trousers half on. “You want to help guard them?”

“I’m in the Order now, aren’t I?” Lily pointed out. “And you said it yourself, I’m a fair hand at Defence magic. I’ve got to get experience sometime, don’t I?”

“But…Lily, how would you explain that to Richard?” he asked, sounding bitter.

“I’ll…I’ll tell him I’m visiting Petunia,” she said. The idea was beginning to excite her. “He’ll never call, and he won’t come with me, not all the way to Surrey. It’s perfect!”

James gave her a long look while he finished pulling up his trousers. He adjusted his belt and pursed his lips.

“Alright,” he said at last. “I’ll come get you.”

Lily grinned widely and fell back onto the bed. For once, good things were happening left and right in her life.

 

* * *

 

**XXIV**

 

Lily was practically buzzing with excitement as she waited for James to arrive. She’d barely been able to sleep the night before as she considered her first assignment with the Order—and with James, to boot. By his side, day and night.

Though she’d told James it wouldn’t be a bother for Richard, Lily had still held her breath while asking if it would be quite alright for her to visit Petunia for a week or so. The relief at Richard’s agreement mixed with resentment at having to ask permission in the first place. These days she felt more and more like a dog chewing at its leash.

She was so focused on the front door that when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind she was caught completely by surprise. A rush of heat traveled to between her legs as she vividly remembered the last time James held her like that. He dropped a kiss to her neck.

“Hello,” he mumbled in her ear. She felt the frame of his glasses pressing lightly against the back of her head. “Have you missed me?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Lily told him, smiling. “I always miss you when you’re gone.”

Inwardly she cringed. When had she turned into the sort of person who spouted off silly lines like that? Was this James’ doing? But, when he answered her words by turning her around and kissing her soundly, Lily thought that perhaps silly lines might not be the worst thing she could do.

“When did you come in?” she murmured.

“Just now,” said James, smiling at her warmly. “You asked me to use the back door, so I—what?”

Lily had turned away to conceal how very touched she was by this.

It was astonishing—and maddeningly so, because it _shouldn’t_ have been—how careful James was to listen to her. He’d been upset by her request the other day, when she’d told him to come in through the kitchen door, and yet he followed her wishes as though it were the simplest thing.

She realised then that James _loved_ her—she heard him say it, so in some essence she knew it already, but it was this moment that the full weight of it came down on her. Lily was certain she might fly into pieces from the heaviness. She turned back to him.

“You really are something,” she said. “I can’t quite believe it.”

“Sorry?” asked James, utterly lost.

Lily grinned and leaned up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Thanks for taking me along,” she told him, ignoring his confusion. She had days— _a week_ —to show him how much she loved him in return. “I really can’t wait. Even if it is just sitting around guarding someone.”

“You’ll like Alice,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the back door. “I mean, you’ll like Frank too, but Alice is quite like you. The pair of you are firecrackers and nothing to sneeze at with a wand in your hands. She’s got a knack for Stunning spells for instance; can pull one off that Stuns three people at once.”

“How does she manage that?” Lily wondered.

James shrugged. “Dunno, but that’s what helped her pass second-year Auror exams.”

“So she doesn’t exactly _need_ protection.”

“No…but Neville does.” James opened the back door and led Lily onto the patio. He turned to face her. “I know Sirius told you a bit, but I really want you to understand how important this child is. He’s the only one with the power to defeat Voldemort. Not even Dumbledore can—so we’ve got to take care of him. That’s the Order’s mission now.”

Lily nodded slowly, feeling terrible for Neville Longbottom. She felt somehow even worse for Alice—to be a mother of a hunted child sounded like a nightmare. If it was Lily in her place, she wasn’t sure she could manage it.

“He must be a very special boy,” she said at last.

James grinned widely. “Oh, he is. He’s just the sweetest baby, you’ll see.”

“James Potter, I didn’t realise you were so fond of babies,” teased Lily.

“Didn’t you?” he laughed. “You’ll come to find, Evans, that I’m mad about babies. Sirius and Remus are always telling me I should be a dad.”

Lily rather liked the thought of James as a dad. She easily pictured him sitting on the floor and shaking brightly coloured toys in front of a small child, his glasses crooked and the pair of them with that wild Potter hair. For a moment she imagined having children with James and blushed.

It was far too early into their relationship to try for a child, though Lily was more than willing to practise… _no_. They had a mission and she couldn’t spend the entire time trying to get off with James.

“Shall we?” she prompted.

James winked at her, as though he knew what she’d been thinking. “Side-along Apparition, then? Since you don’t know where we’re going.”

“I’d like to do my own Apparition one of these days,” Lily grumbled, nevertheless taking James’ arm and closing her eyes as he turned on his heel.

When she opened her eyes, they were in front of a farmhouse, a light coat of mist hanging over the roof. Lily glanced around and saw a barn to her left, as well as an empty pen that must have at some point held animals.

“Where’s this?” she inquired, leaving her hand on James’s arm.

“Wales,” said James. “A few miles outside Cardiff. Come on, let’s get you introduced.” He moved Lily’s hand to interlock with his own and led her up to the front door of the farmhouse. He knocked twice, and then three more knocks rapidly. After a minute of waiting for a response, James frowned.

Lily let go of his hand and walked to the nearest window, peering into what looked like the kitchen. It was empty. “Perhaps they’re upstairs,” she suggested.

“The Longbottoms, maybe, but Benjy wouldn’t leave the front undefended like this,” he mumbled. He reached into his back pocket and pulled his wand back out and tapped it in the same pattern as his knocks from before.

She returned to his side. “James?”

“I just…have a bad feeling,” he said darkly. The door swung inwards, creaking ominously. James moved forward. “Wand out, yeah?”

Lily pulled her wand from her pocket and raised it before following James into the farmhouse. She watched him go into the kitchen and almost called out to him and say she’d seen it before reconsidering—if there was an intruder in the house, she didn’t want to announce herself. Instead she kept walking into what was clearly a sitting room

There were some small blankets on the floor, clearly belonging to a small baby. Lily saw a cradle in the corner, a small one not even two feet high. She went over to it and crouched down, admiring the craftsmanship. When she touched the soft blankets in the cradle, her heart skipped a beat.

It was still warm.

“James,” she said. When he didn’t answer, she raised her voice. “James!”

His footsteps came up behind her. “What is it?”

“Have you checked the upstairs yet?”

“No, I was just about to,” he said.

Lily stood and walked quickly to the staircase. She climbed it at something close to a run and stopped when she came onto the landing. James joined her at the top and passed her, stepping into a room down the hall. She followed him.

The room he’d entered was the master bedroom and looked as though a hurricane had passed through it. James stepped onto the small openings of floor between clothes and baby blankets, past the unmade bed, and bent down to look at something the floor. There was a deep, worried frown on his face and his free hand tugged at the hem of his shirt before reaching out to whatever he’d found.

When he straightened, Lily saw it was a wand.

“Nine inches, cedar…it’s Alice’s,” James mumbled.

“What happened here?” she said nervously.

“I’m…I’m not sure,” he answered, still frowning at the wand. “If Alice left her wand, she must have…she must’ve been holding Neville, and Frank would have his…” James looked up and met her eyes. “I don’t like this.”

“Me neither,” agreed Lily, tightening her grip on her own wand.

James walked back over to her, a little less careful where he put his feet. “If there were intruders here, Benjy had orders to take the Longbottoms to the next safe house early. We’ll check there first and if…if we don’t find them, we’ll go straight to Dumbledore.”

The worried look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.

“Alright,” Lily said, trying to sound calm. “Let’s go, then.”

“Yeah,” James mumbled after a moment, stuffing Alice’s wand into his back pocket. “Yeah, let’s…” he passed her in the doorway and clomped down the stairs. Lily followed him all the way out of the farmhouse, back to where they’d Apparated in, and paused.

James had his hands pressed to his head, looking down and as though he were about to scream. Her breath caught in her throat. Though she wanted to go to him, reassure him somehow, Lily got the distinct impression that he needed a minute.

She waited until his hands lowered and he turned to her. “Come along,” he said, not unkindly. He extended his arm to her and Lily ran to catch it, already closing her eyes in preparation for another Side-along Apparition.

The pinched closeness of Apparition ended abruptly, and Lily opened her eyes to see they’d arrived inside the house for a change.

The lighting was dim in the sitting room they’d Apparated into. Lily blinked a few times to orient herself, and took one step forward to a boudoir before a strange, stinging sensation hit her from behind and she felt her head spin. With the last bit of consciousness, Lily felt herself hit the carpeted floor, and then all went black.


	10. XXV-XXVII

**XXV**

 

The smell was what woke Lily.

It was dank and…stuffy, like an old room that had forgone cleaning.

Little by little, she was brought back to consciousness. She was… _swimming_ , it felt like—swimming through molasses, or tar, trying to reach herself again.

Waking up wasn’t sudden. Her eyes opened, but she didn’t understand her surroundings. Lily opened and closed her eyes more times than she could count—though in her state, she could barely count to one—before managing to at last stay above the waves.

She blinked and forced herself to stare into the dark room.

 _So that’s what it feels like to be Stunned_ , Lily mused. She’d never experienced it herself but had used the Stunning spell as a deterrent to fighting in corridors while Head Girl, more times than she would care to admit now that she felt the aftershocks.

Her whole body was heavy, heavier than she’d ever felt it, like a rock weighing her down even as she fought against it. Lily tried to move her right arm up but found she couldn’t.

For a second, she panicked.

“James?” she called out in the dark. “Help!”

No answer.

Lily’s breath hitched, increased size and speed until she was unable to reign it in. Her lungs were convulsing. Black spots appeared in the corner of her vision.

_No!_

She _refused_ to pass out again, especially not from her own doing. She was in the Order of the Phoenix now, and Order members were made of sterner stuff than this. They _had_ to be. She had to prove to Dumbledore that taking her on wasn’t a mistake, had to prove to everyone she could handle this.

Slowly, too slowly, Lily managed to steady herself. Her breath returned to normal and her heart stopped pounding against her ribs.

She tried to move her right arm again—no luck.

Lily frowned and twisted both arms a little, back and forth.

“Oh,” she said dully. “I see.”

Her hands were bound behind her back.

If James was in the room with her, all Lily had to do was wake him up and get him to help undo her binds. And if he was also tied up, she could help him in return. All she had to do was find James.

But as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness in the room, it became dreadfully, unbearably clear that Lily was very, very alone.

“Alright,” she whispered to herself. “Alright, don’t panic, Evans.”

Something about her old surname calmed her down, though it had been a slip of the tongue. Today, she wasn’t Mrs. Richard Beauchamp—no, that housewife couldn’t get out of a paper bag. For today, she was Lily Evans, Head Girl at Hogwarts, magically talented and quick on her feet.

…Though she didn’t possess a wand.

“I don’t need one,” Lily hissed. Wasn’t she a Muggle-born? Of course she could find a way out of this! Wizards, especially the Death Eaters, always underestimated Muggle ingenuity. They didn’t think like Muggles, relying on only their magic to accomplish what they needed. Why bother hunting for alternative solutions if they could just wave their wand at something?

But Muggles didn’t have magic. Muggles had to make do with their smarts. And that’s what Lily needed; she needed to make do.

She got up on her knees and began to scoot around the room, ignoring the floor rubbing her knees raw. That wasn’t important. There had to be _something—_

A sharp pain pierced her left knee and Lily sprung back.

What on _earth…_

She could barely make it out in the lack of light, but Lily had come across a pile of what appeared to be glass shards. She looked up at the wall and saw, almost as if in her imagination it was so faint, a square of thick canvass.

For a horrible second, Lily considered climbing out the window behind the canvass, escaping, finding the Order, letting someone else take care of things at her make-shift prison. And then she realised her own thoughts and was ashamed of herself.

James was here somewhere—or at least, she hoped so. Frank and Alice Longbottom too, and Alice without a wand. Baby Neville, not even two months old.

Lily steeled herself and turned around slowly. She backed up until she felt the glass piercing her legs and hissed at the pain. It wasn’t the time to think of such things. After a deep breath, in and out, Lily leaned backward until her hands scraped the glass shards and she slowly, painstakingly searched for the largest jagged edge.

The largest one she could find wasn’t nearly large enough, but Lily took it anyway. She held the glass in both hands and began sawing at her bindings, tears springing up in her eyes when the glass pierced and sawed at her skin.

Sharp, sharp, _sharp_ pain, sharp on her skin and all the way to her lungs…sharp as anything…she sobbed at it, wishing it was over—

And her hands flew apart.

Lily threw the glass across the room with a cry, standing up. Her whole body shook from the pain in her hands and wrist. She rubbed at her left wrist and had to hold back a scream at the pain, and her fingers came away wet.

There was blood everywhere, there had to be. Hopefully she didn’t pierce anything dangerous; there was still a job to do.

She staggered to the door and opened it quietly, peering out into the lit hallway. After several seconds to adjust to the light, Lily saw the boudoir across the hall that she’d seen before—they were still in the safe house! At least, she was, and standing close to where she and James had Apparated in.

Lily heard a scream.

Her first instinct was to run toward the sound but in her state, Lily would be caught in a second and would do no good for anyone.

Instead, she stumbled across the hall to the boudoir and fell onto the bed for a moment. She looked at her hands—covered in blood, just as she’d thought. Lily released a breath to calm herself and stood again, heading to the chest of drawers to the right. She dug through the drawers, hoping that among the socks and shirts she could find some thick linens.

In the end, all she found were more shirts. Lily would have to make do.

She began ripping at the garments, sending a silent apology to whomever they belonged to.

Lily wrapped her left hand first, which she realised afterward was a mistake—on top of her left hand’s usual clumsiness, her movements were restricted and stiff. She managed it somehow but feared her impromptu bandages would spring loose at the worst time.

“Alright,” she breathed. “Here we go.”

The screaming had not stopped while Lily had wrapped her hands up; rather, it returned on and off, sometimes stretching out for nearly a minute and sometimes only a second long. Lily had deduced it to be a woman’s scream, because no man could reach that high a note.

She headed toward that screaming woman, walking slowly—agonisingly so—and her ears pricked for any sign of discovery. Luckily, no one happened across her, because as Lily approached the sounds of screaming she could hear nothing else.

Up ahead, there was a room—how large was this place? Lily could distinctly hear the screams echoing on the walls of that room.

As she hugged the wall, Lily inched closer. The screams stopped.

After a second of panicked confusion, Lily managed to hear words in place of the screams, low and full of tears.

“Not my baby,” the voice pleaded. “Not my baby. You can’t have my baby.”

“The Dark Lord will be here soon enough,” a gruff voice answered. “Give us the child and you will be given a merciful death.”

“No!”

 _Alice_ , Lily realised. She peeked around the doorframe.

Lily had never seen Alice Longbottom’s face before, but the sheer desperation on her face betrayed her. If they had met under any other circumstances, Lily would have found Alice to be quite pretty, but not beautiful.

She had full, round cheeks and soft blonde hair, tied up in a knot with tendrils falling down and sticking to her sweat-covered neck. In her arms, clenched far too tightly, was a bundle of blankets Lily knew to be little Neville Longbottom. How the baby had not screamed in response to his mother’s racket was a mystery, but Lily supposed she was grateful.

Tear lines streaked Alice’s face and in addition to her desperation there was a madness in her eyes, a sign of unhinged fury and grief. What had caused this?

Lily thought she knew, but…but she needed proof.

Ever so slowly, she poked her head around the doorframe further, looking into the room.

Two Death Eaters, cloaked in dark robes, stood with their backs facing Lily and their wands pointed at Alice. Strange they had not cursed her or killed her…further in, Lily saw a hand on the floor.

Her heart and stomach dropped.

She took a step forward and craned her neck, hoping to see the truth and dreading it all the same.

Two bodies were on the floor. Both were men. One she didn’t recognise the face at all, save that his eyes were open wide in shock, but the other she had seen before—never in person, but more than once in _The Daily Prophet_.

Frank Longbottom was dead.

 

* * *

 

**XXVI**

 

Lily leaned back and steadied herself against the wall, taking in deep and silent breaths. Frank Longbottom was dead, already pale in death, and Alice Longbottom was without a wand and at the mercy of two Death Eaters. By all odds, the other dead man was Benjy Fenwick, the Order member James had spoken of.

She desperately wanted to run in there and fight off the Death Eaters, get them away from mother and child—but what good would that do, with her being bloody and wandless?

Alice let loose another shriek of dismay, and Lily’s heart twinged. She could understand the other woman’s desperate madness; when Lily had read in _The Daily Prophet_ last year of James’ death, she couldn’t eat or sleep for a week. If it were James’ body on that floor now she…if it were James she…

How _could_ she understand? She wasn’t married to James, she didn’t have a child with him!

…But she loved him all the same, to the point of madness.

It occurred to her then—if she could find James, if she could procure an ally in this house, they could get their hands on a wand or two and have an even chance at saving Alice and Neville. The battle wasn’t lost just yet.

Lily winced as Alice screamed. “ _Don’t you touch him!_ ” she heard. “ _Don’t you dare!_ ”

She didn’t know if it was the mishandling Frank or Neville that had induced such an ire, and she didn’t want to find out. If Alice could hold out for just a little bit longer…if she could wait to meet Lily for just a few minutes more…

With a deep breath, Lily pushed off from the wall and darted past the open door. There was no time to check whether or not she’d been spotted by the Death Eaters inside, for if she did she’d be seen for sure. Lily just kept going until she reached the end of the hall, at which point she hesitated.

There were three paths to take; a long hallway to her right, a door to her left, or the staircase before her. Lily leaned against the bannister, wracking her brains. This safe house was enormous, which probably came in handy if any enemies managed to get inside. But the trouble was, with the enemies already in and taking control, she was the one at a disadvantage.

Lily glanced down at her hands. The wounds on her left hand had already soaked through the bandages, spots of blood gathering and growing. The right one was only a matter of time, then. She had to find James quickly.

She was just about to go through the door on her left when she heard a murmuring from upstairs.

“… _not going…anything…_ ”

Her heart caught in her throat. Lily strained her ears, taking one step up the stairs to better catch the words drifting down.

“… _isn’t…that’s not…won’t…_ ”

“James,” she whispered.

Relief flooded her, nearly bowled her over. Lily hadn’t allowed herself to admit how very possible it was for James Potter to be dead already, hadn’t let the thought cross into her conscious mind—but she’d feared it anyway, in some private corner of her mind.

He was still alive.

Lily steadied herself and proceeded to climb the staircase, her movements slow (painfully slow) and quiet. She wanted to run to him, but if he was guarded like Alice all finding James would do is change her place of capture. No, she had to be smart about this.

She put a hand on the bannister and felt a wetness under her palm. Lily pulled back her hand in horror only to realise she was the cause—the blood from her left hand was leaking through her bandages and dripping.

This, of all things, caused a pressure behind her eyes and a tightness in her throat.

It was ridiculous. She’d been Stunned, tied up, thrown inside a room and separated from James, seen two dead bodies and the grief of a newly-made widow, but her own cuts had saddened her? How _selfish_ was she? How self-centered, how self-pitying—

“Lily?”

She froze.

_That voice…_

“Lily!”

It was a hiss, louder than a whisper but hushed nonetheless. Lily jerked her head up and saw him at the top of the stairs. He had his feet apart, a proud stance, one she’d never seen from him before—but his arms were out and his shoulders still hunched. He had not changed much, then, though she felt her blood run cold at seeing him here.

If _he_ was here…

“Severus?” she managed.

Severus scurried down the steps to meet her. “What are you doing out?” he whispered harshly, a look of panic on his face. His hair swung in front of his eyes.

“What do you mean, _out?_ ” Lily demanded. “Severus—”

“You can’t be here,” he interrupted, glancing up and down the stairs nervously. “They can’t see you—they’ll kill you on sight!”

“They’ve already locked me in a room and taken my wand,” she pointed out, her voice low. “Obviously they don’t think of me as a threat.”

“ _I_ did that!” said Severus with a flap of his hand. “I was there when you and Potter Apparated in—I had no choice!” His face twisted into an ugly grimace. “What were you doing with him, anyway? I thought you were safe in Cokeworth with that Beauchamp idiot.”

Lily gaped. “You Stunned me? You took my wand?”

“I did it to protect you!” Severus put a hand to his forehead. “We’ve got to get you out of here before they find out.” He gripped her wrist and started pulling her down the stairs. She struggled, but his grip was close to her wound and the pain made her weak.

“Severus—”

“I’ll put a Disillusionment on you,” he carried on, ignoring her. “We’ll go out the kitchen, no one will see—”

She managed to pull away, suppressing a cry as her wounds squeezed and stretched. “I can’t leave!” she told him. “Alice and Neville Longbottom—and James—”

“What is it about Potter?” he demanded with that ugly look. “You’re married! Don’t give him a second thought! He’s lost, alright?”

“That’s nothing to do with what’s happening right now!” she snapped, nearly forgetting to keep quiet. “They’re going to kill him—him and Neville and Alice, they’re going to kill all of them!”

“What about them?”

She felt her blood freeze.

It was the way he said it—not evil or spiteful, or even victorious. Severus was genuinely confused. He didn’t understand why Lily wouldn’t want them to die…

Lily had told Sirius she understood, back at her house while he recovered from Severus’ curse. She said she understood why Sirius had gone after Severus the way he did, unapologetically after his life. But she hadn’t, really. She’d even resented Sirius a little.

She understood him now.

“What do you mean, _what about them?_ ” Lily replied slowly. “They don’t deserve to die, Sev.”

“That’s just the way things are,” he argued with wide eyes. “The Dark Lord is going to win, anyway—why delay the inevitable? But I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he added hastily, no doubt seeing the horror on Lily’s face.

“Do you really think I care if I’m safe or not,” she said, “if it means innocent people are dying around me?”

“James Potter isn’t _innocent_ ,” Severus snarled.

“And Neville Longbottom?” Lily shot back. “Even if you’re right about James, a two-month-old _baby_ is the most innocent thing in this world.”

Severus hit the bannister with a dull _smack_. “He’s a threat to the Dark Lord, Lily, he’s got to go.”

“Must be a poor wizard if a baby is such a threat.”

She was baiting him, falling back into old habits; she couldn’t help it. He was infuriating her with all this talk.

“Lily, I’ll explain everything later, but for now we’ve got to go,” Severus pleaded with wide eyes. He stepped toward her and grabbed both her shoulders, trying to tug her along.

On instinct, and with a fair amount of anger, Lily jerked her knee up and slammed it between Severus’ legs. He let out a groan of pain and dropped his hands from her. She raised her arms and linked her hands together (ignoring the sticky wetness of her blood), swinging fiercely and knocking Severus around the head.

He fell down the stairs with a loud _thud_ and _thump_ , ending up at the bottom in a heap.

“Always underestimating Muggles,” Lily whispered, a lump in her throat. She went back down the stairs and checked his pulse—he was still alive, but out cold. “How does it feel to be Stunned?” she murmured resentfully.

She would have to hide his body, though—it wouldn’t do for anyone to see him unconscious, they’d know someone was about. But she couldn’t drag him anywhere, not with her hands in such a state.

_His wand!_

Of course, she had to take his wand! It was so simple, Lily was almost embarrassed she didn’t think of it immediately. It was still clutched in his right hand, miraculously undamaged from the fall.

She wrested it from his grip and straightened up, performing a _swish-and-flick_ that had Severus instantly floating. Lily conducted him down the hallway to the right of the stairs, checking the rooms. At last, she found a broom cupboard, where she unceremoniously shoved him inside.

“Serves you right,” she hissed as she shut the door, blinking back tears. “Let’s see how you like it.”

Lily turned around and headed back toward the stairs. She’d just begun to climb them again when something rooted her to the spot.

“ _NO! YOU BASTARD! NOO!_ ”

“James,” she breathed, and—ignoring the caution that had gotten her this far—sprinted up the staircase.

 

* * *

 

**XXVII**

 

Common sense gripped her as she reached the second floor. She had a wand, she had a way of hiding herself. If she ran in not knowing the situation they might both suffer for it.

This was torture, absolute _torture_ , because she didn’t know if James hurt or dying and she wanted nothing more to be at his side, but she had to be smart. She had to…

Lily forced herself to a stop and took a deep breath in.

_“I’ll put a Disillusionment on you.”_

As far as ideas went, it was a solid one. Severus Snape had at least done one good thing this day. Lily raised the wand she’d lifted from him and tapped the top of her skull. The cold, oozing effects of the charm made her shudder in distaste, but it was necessary.

Something warm and wet splashed onto her trouser leg.

Lily glanced down before remembering she couldn’t see herself—but there, next to her foot, was a small dark spot. She slowly knelt down and put her finger to it. It was sticky under her fingertips.

She would have to be careful. If her blood kept dripping like this, even with a Disillusionment Charm on her, her position would be given away for certain. For a moment she considered what sort of spells she could use to heal her wounds, but James made up her mind for her, letting out a silent scream of fury. She bolted to her feet and scrambled down the hall.

The door to her left, the one with the warm light shining out of it—that was the one where James’ voice came from. Lily rounded the doorframe but found herself rooted to the spot as she took in the scene before her.

“ _How could you?!_ ” James growled. His jaw was clenched, and though he was thoroughly bound to a wooden chair Lily could see his entire body was just as tense and ready for a fight. She bit back a gasp at the gash on his head and the blood trickling down his neck like a dying waterfall.

“You don’t understand!”

“ _HOW?_ ”

Peter Pettigrew held his wand out to James, his entire arm shaking. Those familiar, watery-blue eyes were wide and full of fear, though he was the one with a wand and James tied up. He wore a robe like the Death Eaters downstairs had (like Severus had) and in his non-wand hand Peter held a mask. Between them, a desk had been overturned and pushed aside.

“They were going to kill me, James!” he cried out. “You were there, you know it!”

“ _I thought you died for me!_ ” spat James. “I— _I went back for you!_ I was tortured— _I NEARLY WENT OUT OF MIND! FOR YOU!_ And you’re one of _them?!_ ”

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t all along,” Peter protested, taking a step back and dropping his mask. “They tortured me too, James! I was offered a choice, die or help them… _I didn’t want to die!_ ”

James gnashed his teeth together in a wordless rage. Lily saw froth leaking out from the corners of his mouth, and behind his glasses, his the whites of his eyes stood out.

She had never, not once in her life, seen a person this angry.

“You have to understand,” he pleaded, “I’m not brave like you and Padfoot.”

“You’re a Gryffindor,” James hissed. “You were a _Gryffindor_. Bravery, nobility—”

Peter shook his head so fast that his hair whipped into his eyes. “I did what I had to! The Dark Lord, he…he’s going to win this, James! If we don’t join him we’ll all die.”

“ _THEN WE DIE!_ ”

“Who do you think got you out last year?” snapped Peter, apparently gaining some confidence. “I was the one who freed you! I let you go!”

“You did it under orders,” snarled James, “or else you’d be _dead_ for letting a prisoner go. Just what did you hope to gain?”

“That’s not why—”

“Don’t _LIE TO ME!_ ” he roared. “ _My house, Peter! WE’RE IN MY HOUSE! MY FATHER’S STUDY! THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A SAFE HOUSE!_ ”

Lily’s breath caught in her throat. James’…house?

Peter let out a whimper. “You…” he said something that Lily couldn’t hear, but James must have because his nostrils flared and the froth on his lips grew. He pulled at his binds erratically.

“I never rescinded your invitation because I thought you were dead!”

“But I still had it!”

“ _You were dead!_ ”

Peter’s whole body started shaking. “I’m useful, James! I still know where all the safe houses are—I can get into any place undetected, you know that better than anyone!”

James let out a dark, mad laugh. It sounded so wholly unlike him that Lily took a step back.

“Of course,” he said. “ _Of course_. I shouldn’t be surprised; after all, you’ve always been a rat, haven’t you?”

Across the room from him, Peter flinched as though he’d been physically struck. “You said—when we all became Aimagi—you said my form didn’t matter, it was a good thing—”

“ _Because of you, HALF OUR ORDER IS DEAD!_ ” James began to rock his chair back and forth. “Benjy Fenwick, _your friend Benjy_ , is downstairs probably getting tortured within an inch of his sanity, and Frank and Alice and—I don’t even know what you did to Lily but if she’s dead I swear to Merlin I’ll kill you myself!”

Peter frowned. “Lily?” he repeated slowly.

James let out another throat-tearing scream. “Lily Evans!”

“What’s…what’s Lily got to do with—”

“ _Don’t act stupid, Wormtail!_ ” he snapped. “You’ve always, _always_ acted stupid, haven’t you? Oh, but aren’t you clever—sneaking in and out of the Order, discovering all our plans…no wonder we’re always one step behind, thanks to you.”

“I did what I had to!” cried Peter.

“ _Liar_ ,” James pushed back. “You’ve always been a coward. And I’ve been too blind to see it. Did you even stop to think of all the innocent people you’d have to kill? Or have you never cared about them all along?”

_Coward…_

“I don’t kill when I can help it!”

“ _What sort of excuse is that?_ ”

_…Coward, stuck in Cokeworth…you haven’t fought at all and innocent people are dying…_

Lily stirred, forcing herself to stop staring.

That gash on James’ head was still oozing blood…both her hands were dripping with her own blood now, and at any moment You-Know-Who could arrive to finish off Alice and Neville—if the Death Eaters didn’t do so themselves first.

 _You have to move_ , she scolded herself. _Move, now!_

“..you’d be treated so well,” Peter was saying. “Prongs, you’re a pureblood! He won’t say no to you!”

Lily raised her wand and silently, vehemently shot a Stunning Spell at Peter Pettigrew. The red light hit him square in the face and he toppled backwards, collapsing to the floor. His head hit the carpet with a loud, sickening _thud_.

James jerked his head around wildly this way and that, trying to find the source of the spell.

“Are you alright?” she called to him as she strode into the room.

“…Lily?” he mumbled, panic plaguing his expression.

 _The Disillusionment Charm!_ She could have kicked herself. Lily raised Severus’ wand again and tapped the top of her head, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation. There had to be a better way to move unseen than this.

“I’m here,” she said as the charm began to work its way down. Lily hurried over to where James was bound in the chair and put her hands on his knees. “Are you alright?”

James let out a deep, shaky breath. “Peter, he—”

“I know, I heard everything,” Lily assured him. She didn’t know what to say; the madness and despair had soaked into his skin and she could see little else in his eyes.

She leaned up and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips, coaxing and coercing a reaction from James. If he could just focus on her, for just one moment…he could come back from this living nightmare, just for a moment.

He didn’t respond.

Lily reached up with her free hand and stroked his jaw. The pressure behind her eyes annoyed her but she didn’t fight the tears. She wanted _her_ James back, the gentle one, the playful and strong and brave James, the James who loved her, not this madman.

At last, his lips moved against hers.

She pulled away and stood up. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I got your face all bloody.”

James flinched. “Your hands!” he exclaimed, staring at them. “What happened?”

“I’ll explain later,” Lily told him, tapping his binds. They fell from James and onto the floor limply, as if they’d never been on him in the first place. “We’ve got to get downstairs. Alice and Neville—”

“They snapped my wand,” said James as he stood up hastily. He slumped back down. “Why am I so dizzy?”

His head wound…she bit her lip. They were in bad shape.

“Take Peter’s,” she commanded. “We’ll—”

A stampede of footfalls greeted her ears, growing louder and louder by the second until—

Lily whirled on the spot. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw three masked Death Eaters enter the study, their wands raised and ready to fire.


	11. XXVIII-XXX

**XXVIII**

 

“ _Cruci—_ ”

“ _PROTEGO!_ ” Lily shouted, throwing Severus’ wand up at the last second. The middle Death Eater’s Cruciatus Curse fizzled against her shield, nearly breaking her defences. Her Shield Charm was dimmer than usual.

James pushed himself to his feet again and swayed dangerously. “Lily—”

“Get Peter’s wand!” she snapped. Her heart was galloping, racing—she’d never been in a fight before. Her Shield Charm dimmed again when the Death Eater on the left made a sharp, diagonal cut with his wand and a yellow flame blasted toward her. “Hurry!”

James half-ran, half-crawled toward Peter’s body, ducking behind the desk when the Death Eaters saw his movements. Lily watched him scramble to Peter and tug at his wand—

 _Whooosh_.

Lily turned her head and felt a boiling gust of air pass by her ear. She saw something small and purple and oddly sinister hit the wall and blossom out, turning all it touched to black.

Her shield was down, broken impossibly quickly.

She just managed to duck as the middle Death Eater sent another Cruciatus toward her; there was no time to pay attention to James. Lily would just have to trust him to fight well, even in his condition.

“ _Reducto!_ ” she cried, pointing at the right corner of the doorframe. The explosion knocked the Death Eater on the right back into the hall, a pained bellow informing her she’d struck well. Hopefully he’d stay down for at least a few minutes.

Lily tried to silently cast another Stunning Spell, but the wand in her hand only half-heartedly emitted red sparks. What had happened? She shouted out the spell and it shot out (though both Death Eater’s dodged her efforts).

Was Severus’ wand…fighting her? It had responded to her well enough before the Death Eaters had come in; the Disillusionment, Stunning Peter, releasing James from his bonds…was the wand resisting attacks on her enemies because they were Severus’ allies?

She glanced down for a half-second and saw her blood smearing the length of the wand, a slick, sticky coat that went nearly all the way up to the point.

“ _Ahh!_ ”

That yellow flame—the one that had damaged her shield—was burning, _burning_ on her arm. Her skin boiled under that flame and she felt the pain of it travel up, up, _up_ into her blood—

“ _Finite Incantatem!_ ” Lily pointed at the flame, tears streaming down her cheeks. The flame went out and the pain lessened, but she could still feel it. “ _Protego!_ ”

A volley of spells bounced off her poor excuse for a shield, but Lily gritted her teeth and held firm. She needed a minute to recover from whatever that was.

Only one Death Eater faced her now; the other was dueling against James, who despite his sluggishness had so far managed to hold his own. Lily bit her lip in worry at the sight of his still-bleeding head wound before wrenching her gaze back to her own opponent.

Though the Death Eater wore a mask, Lily imagined him to be smiling. He must think she would be easy to beat, trying the same trick again, constantly looking to her partner—she would have to do something really unexpected to win this.

Lily took a deep breath and let it out. _You are mine_ , she silently commanded Severus’ wand. No; her wand. _You are mine now_. _Obey me!_

She lowered the Shield Charm and dropped to the floor, rolling forward and probably looking foolish, but the curses and hexes flying her way went far over her head. Lily forced herself upright and pointed her wand at the Death Eater’s feet.

_Obey me!_

The carpet on the floor began to unravel itself, slowly at first and then in a rush. Lily ducked another curse her opponent sent towards her and grinned as the wool began to run up the Death Eater’s legs, up to his torso, rooting him in place.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” she cried, aiming for the Death Eater. He was unable to move away and slumped in his carpet prison.

Lily grinned—but only for a moment, because she heard James cry out in pain and then a loud, ominous _thud_ vibrated through her feet.

She whipped around and saw James lying on the floor, his glasses snapped and his eyes closed.

Her stomach dropped, falling further than she’d ever known it could fall—

The Death Eater she’d flung into the hallway stood with his wand outstretched, pointed where James had stood, obviously coming up from behind him.

“Here lies James Potter,” the other one said behind his mask—his, because the voice was clearly male. “The Dark Lord will surely reward us if we kill him.”

“ _No!_ ” Lily screamed. Her throat tore with the sound.

Both Death Eaters turned to her, apparently surprised that she was the victor instead of their companion. The one who had taken down James turned his wand to her but…

 _Something had_ …

Inside of her, something had woken up.

Lily made a sharp slash in the air with her wand and sent a curse toward both Death Eaters, blowing them back a few steps. They braced and began firing spells at her but she dodged and released a flurry of attacks.

This was an anger she’d never experienced before; it gave birth to new spells, mixing some together or just bursting magic out. Lily didn’t stop moving, her hand and wand a blur in the air. She wasn’t entirely certain _what_ she was doing, only…

They could not have James. They _would not_ have him, because his life was hers and she would kill every last Death Eater before letting them take him away.

Her wand slipped forward.

Lily’s breath caught as she just barely managed to keep it from falling out of her hands, and it dangled from her fingertips. She dropped to the floor to avoid the curses flying at her.

The blood. It was the blood from her hands, the blood now trickling down her forearms to drip off her elbows, that had made her wand so slippery. Her fingers were coated with the stuff. Impossibly, her stomach heaved at the sight and smell.

 _No_ , she thought, her mind in a haze. If she couldn’t even hold a weapon…

Lily gritted her teeth and swished her wand. Light ropes came forth from the tip, wrapping themselves around her wand and her fingers intricately. They stiffened and stilled, and now she was incapable of dropping her wand.

She jumped up and blasted the Death Eater nearest to her backward. He hit the wall with a crack and slumped forward. Somehow, she knew in her gut that he was dead.

Her remaining opponent flicked his wand and shot a new type of flame at her, black and sinister. She moved to the left, just missing it—

“ _AHHHHHHHH!_ ”

Her hair! A lock of hair had been in the spell’s path and it had caught flame, but it wasn’t fire at all, it was… _something dark_ , and sizzling, and it was already eating through the roots and into her scalp—

“ _Ow! No, no, no! NO!_ ” she flailed as whatever that jinx was began to chew through her skin. Her hair came loose and she felt it tangling up and poisoning more and more, but she couldn’t breathe.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” A green light missed her by inches, saved only by her wild movements.

Lily pointed her wand up at the ceiling. “ _Aguamenti!_ ” she cried, dousing herself in a harsh downpour of water. The jinx did not cease. She swished her wand and froze the water in her hair, and the pain did not stop but…but the spell stopped spreading.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ” she shouted, aiming for the Death Eater.

She got him square in the chest. His arms snapped to his side and he fell backward, rigid as a board.

Lily collapsed to her knees.

“ _Finite Incantatem!_ _Deletrius! Deprimo!"_

Nothing was working; Lily resisted the urge to scrabble at the curse on her head with her bare hands. If she got her fingers in it she’d be done for—but the pain! It was as if acid burned through her scalp. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she suppressed her screams. She couldn’t, that would only call more Death Eaters in.

 _Acid_ —if it was acid—

Lily braced herself, a near-paralyzing fear building up in her chest. She knew how to counter acid while cleaning, after all, but…this was going to hurt.

“ _Scourgify!_ ”

The pain was so intense that Lily couldn’t control her lungs. She screamed until she had no more breath, and couldn’t find the strength to draw in more air. Spots appeared before her eyes— _yes_ , if only she could pass out, lose consciousness before the pain in her head drove her mad…

Slowly, so slowly at first she didn’t even realise, the burning subsided. Lily closed her eyes as it went away, breathing in short, shallow breaths and releasing in whimpers.

When it had at last gone from her, she opened her eyes again and found she’d curled herself into a ball on the floor.

Lily looked up and saw James, his eyes still closed. But his chest was moving in and out, so he was alive and breathing. She stretched out her wand. “ _Ennervate._ ”

He groaned softly, and her heart nearly burst with relief. She flicked her wand and repaired his glasses before letting her hand fall to the floor and letting her eyes fall shut.

Her entire body ached.

“Lily…” James’ voice was groggy, and then it became sharp. “Lily!”

“I’m alright,” she mumbled. “I’m alive.”

“Lily, your hair—”

“I know.”

She felt, rather than heard, him get onto his hands and knees and crawl toward her. She let out a sigh when his fingers touched the bald spot on her head.

“We’ll fix it,” James promised. “Let me see your hands.”

Lily opened her eyes and saw that James was horribly pale, much paler than usual. “You’ve got your own wound to heal,” she told him.

“I’ll let Benjy fix it when we rescue them,” said James. He held Peter’s wand out and tapped both her hands, one gentle tap to each bandage. “That’ll stop the bleeding, but you need a Healer.”

“James…”

“Did you take out all the Death Eaters yourself?” he went on, sounding mildly impressed.

“James,” she said again, raising her voice as much as she could bear. “Benjy Fenwick is dead.”

James frowned in apparent confusion. “What?”

“He’s dead,” she told him. “Him and…and Frank.”

“No,” said James, shaking his head. “No, I’m sure they’re alive. They’re fighters. Even if they got caught off-guard they’d manage to—”

“James,” Lily cut him off, her heart aching.

His shoulders began to shake. James put his face in his hands, Peter’s wand dropping to the floor, and he turned slightly away from her. Lily wanted to leave him be and let this sink in—he was friends with both of them, they’d served in the Order together, fought alongside one another—but they didn’t have time for that. She had to be heartless, for his own sake.

She lifted herself onto one elbow, even that motion costing her a great deal of effort. “We’ve got to get down there,” she went on. “Alice and Neville need us.”

Lily watched as James’ shaking began to slow and come to a stop. He lowered his hands, and Lily did him the courtesy of not mentioning the wetness around his eyes.

He stood, still swaying on his feet.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, reaching out a hand for her to grab.

 

* * *

 

**XXIX**

 

When Lily rose to her feet, she found she was also unsteady. The blood she’d lost and all the injuries she’d acquired…she’d managed so far, but if they were attacked again…

“Lily?”

James’ voice came at her in an echo. Her fingers pinched together as he squeezed her hand tightly.

“I’ll be alright,” she assured him, rooting her feet to the floor. “We’ve just got to…we’ve got to get downstairs, that’s all.”

“You’ve just gone through quite an ordeal, perhaps you should—”

“James,” said Lily, snapping her head up. She looked him square in the eye. “If you’re still able to stand, then so am I.”

He held her gaze for several seconds before looking away. “Come on,” he mumbled, and headed for the door of the study. They stepped around the Death Eater that Lily had wrapped in carpet.

“Shouldn’t there be more of them?” she wondered, a hint of nervousness seeping out of her voice. “I made such a racket when I was screaming, surely someone must have heard by now.”

“I don’t think so,” said James. He moved into the hallway and looked over the bannister, examining their pathway down the stairs. “This house—my house—is reinforced with Imperturbable Charms. There are only a few places where something from upstairs can be heard downstairs. I bet you anything those Death Eaters just happened across one of those spots.”

Lily frowned. “Isn’t that…rather silly?”

“Necessary, actually,” he went on. They started heading down the stairs, and James lowered his voice to a whisper. “Until recently the Potter Mansion hosted a large number of parties and gatherings, and top-secret political meetings. The meetings would be held upstairs and all the best information was taken by standing in one of those spots. You can hear anything.”

“Is…is one of them at the foot of the stairs?”

James nodded.

“That’s how I heard you,” Lily realised. “I was looking for you and— _James?_ ”

He had stopped in his descent, resting his body against the bannister. His hand was almost entirely limp in her grasp.

“James!” she gasped, and hurried around to stand before him. His mouth was hanging open and he kept blinking, as though he were trying to clear his vision. She took his face in both her hands and gave his head a light shake.

“I’ll be alright,” he mumbled, echoing her earlier words. “Lily—”

He raised his left hand, the one not currently clinging to Peter’s wand, and wrapped it around her wrist firmly. The knot of fear in Lily’s chest loosened slightly, though she was still anxious.

“You should let me take care of that,” she repeated, indicating his bleeding head wound. “If you lose consciousness I won’t be able to help you.”

“Keep…going,” James said through gritted teeth.

“You’re too stubborn,” snapped Lily, but she did as he said and clambered to the bottom of the stairs, turning around and looking up as James followed her with hesitant steps.

He reached out and took her hand again the moment he reached her. She suspected it was less of a romantic gesture than it was to keep himself upright. This idiot man…he was going to get himself killed because he was too stupid to care for himself. As soon as they got out of this mess she was going to give him a piece of her mind—

James tugged her arm and pulled her against the wall, putting his other hand over her mouth. The wand he held slapped painfully against her upper lip.

“Don’t move,” he breathed.

Lily’s heart pounded, sharp and brisk.

“ _There he is_ ,” she heard, like a voice carried on the wind.

“ _It won’t be long now. Get the door, will you?_ ”

“ _The Dark Lord never fails to disappoint, does he?_ ”

Her entire body froze, ice in her veins and in the joints of her bones. Not now, not when they were so close to getting out of this nightmare!

“James,” she tried to say underneath his palm.

“Let’s go,” he answered, lowering his hand from her mouth and tugging her down the hallway. “Where are they?”

“Three doors up,” said Lily. She saw it ahead of them; the room where Alice and Neville were being held. “There are two Death Eaters there, though.”

James paused in his stride, biting his lip in thought.

“Remember what I told you about Alice?” he said, turning to her abruptly. “When we were on our way to the farm house, do you remember what I said?”

She thought back. “You said we’d get along,” Lily answered slowly. “And… _oh!_ ”

Lily dashed forward, swishing her wand and letting the bindings fall from her wrist. They vanished and her wand, now covered in dried blood, dropped to the tips of her fingers. As she rounded the doorframe, Lily yelled out a “ _Hey!_ ” to the occupants.

Both Death Eaters whirled on the spot, taking her in. They raised both their wands against her, but Lily kept her eyes on Alice, who had snapped her head up and was staring at Lily in utter bewilderment. Praying her aim wouldn’t fail her, Lily tossed her wand to Alice.

Remarkably, the Auror reached up a hand, cradling Neville in just one arm, and caught the wand in midair.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” she cried hatefully, and made an unusual slashing motion with her arm that caused the Stunning Spell to travel even as it was being cast, the red light bouncing from one Death Eater to the next.

They fell to the floor.

Lily gulped.

“Who are you?” Alice demanded, tossing Lily’s wand back to her. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s with me,” James’ voice answered. He came up behind Lily and once again grabbed up her hand in his own. “We’re here to rescue you.”

Alice’s eyes hardened as she took in their appearances—unsteady and coated in blood—and then her entire face collapsed. She began to sob.

“ _Frank!_ ” she moaned, dropping to her knees. She stared across the room at her husband’s body. “Oh, _Merlin…_ Frank!”

Neville didn’t make a sound, and it suddenly struck Lily that a newborn baby ought to be wailing at this moment. The loud noises, his mother’s tension…

“What’s wrong with Neville?” Lily demanded, wincing at the harshness in her tone.

Alice looked up with hollow eyes. “One of the Death Eaters…it sounded like Mulciber, he—he Stunned Neville when he started to cry… _a baby_ …everyone knows you don’t Stun a baby…he’s still breathing but I don’t know…”

“We’ve got to get him to a Healer,” said James. “All of us, we’re in no condition to take on Voldemort. He’s here, Alice.”

“I…I can’t leave Frank,” she whispered with a trembling lip.

“We can’t think about them now,” Lily snapped. “We can come back for the bodies later when—” She clapped her hands to her mouth, which was made easy by James dropping his hold on her like a hot potato.

Alice Longbottom looked so hateful Lily thought she might die under her gaze. When she turned to James, Lily nearly cried at how shocked and hurt he was by her words. She’d forgotten; though Frank Longbottom and Benjy Fenwick were only names and dead faces to her, to James and Alice they were friends and…

If it had been her hearing that…

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lowering her hands. “I only meant…Frank wouldn’t want you to stay if it means you’ll die…he’ll have died for nothing, then…and Benjy too,” she added for James’ sake. “If we die here, who will tell everyone about Peter?”

Both Order members remained silent for ten agonisingly long seconds, time in which Lily imagined she could heard You-Know-Who’s footfalls just outside the door of the room.

On the one hand, Lily could sympathise; she knew firsthand how crippling loss could be, the way it grabs and paralyses those affected.

But what she couldn’t understand was how these two, these members of the Order of the Phoenix, were immobile. They knew the risks of joining the Order, didn’t they? They understood death was part of the bargain, and surely they knew how to keep themselves in check.

For heaven’s sake, this was no time to be mourning the dead, it was a time to stay alive!

Alice was the one who spoke first, at long last. “We’ll go then,” she agreed, her voice raw.

“Lily, you should be the one to Apparate us out,” said James. Lily glanced to him; he was still looking away from her.

“I’ve never done Side-Along before,” she argued. “If I make a mistake—”

“Alice and I won’t be able to concentrate,” he told her firmly. “You’ve got the clearest head right now; get us out of here.”

Lily bit her lip…but this was no time to dawdle.

“Take hold of me,” she commanded the pair of them. Alice rose to her feet and reached out a hand to Lily—

“ _AAHHHHHHHH!_ ”

 _Pain!_ Indescribable, worse than the acid, worse than the burns, than her hands—

Everything was sharp and dragging on her skin—

She was on the floor, though she didn’t know how she got there, writhing, trying to make it stop, _anything_ to make it stop—

And then it did, just as suddenly as it began.

Lily opened her eyes and looked up into the cold, furious glare of Lord Voldemort.

 

* * *

 

**XXX**

 

“Who is this?”

His voice was higher than Lily had imagined. Higher and…colder, much colder.

In her imagination—in her nightmares—Lily had always given a deep, angry voice to You-Know-Who. Towering, booming, deep voice full of anger and hatred and evil.

This was different. This was like a cut on her soul.

She tried to answer his question but found her body was shaking too hard to let words out. Would he torture her again if she didn’t answer? She couldn’t go through that again, she _couldn’t—_

“I recognise her,” one of the Death Eaters behind Voldemort said.

Lily twitched involuntarily; she knew that voice. She hadn’t heard it in a long time but there was no mistaking it.

“Oh, Mulciber? You know this woman?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the Death Eater went on. “That’s Lily Evans. We were at Hogwarts together. She’s a mudblood, sir. Filthy as they come.”

Voldemort turned back to her, his red eyes boring holes into her. Lily couldn’t stop shaking. Why, _why_ had she thought she could stand up to this man? No…“man” was not the right word. He was something slightly other, too alien to be fully human anymore…

“Lily Evans,” Voldemort repeated, his thin lips curling into a sneer. “I know that name. Lily Evans of Cokeworth, both parents Muggles and proud of it.”

Her heart lodged in her throat. “H-h-how?” she managed.

“ _Don’t speak to me!_ ” he spat, swishing his wand. Lily felt herself flying backwards. Her head smacked against the wall and her wand dropped from her hand. Had she still been holding it?

The room spun, turning to the left and starting over again, again and again. She felt sick.

“Severus and I had a deal, you see; you and your silly Muggle town were to be left alone,” Voldemort explained, as if he’d not tossed her like a rag doll. “It was pointless request; I have no need for a town like Cokeworth. But I will indulge him no longer.”

“ _Lily…_ ”

She blinked once, twice, trying to clear her muggy thoughts—was that James’ voice?

Lily turned her head to her left and saw James lying on the floor with his eyes closed, slumped in a lifeless pose. With the paleness of his skin, he could pass for dead…and that’s what he was doing, she realised slowly. He was playing dead.

Like a possum.

Remarkably, this struck her as funny. The urge to laugh bubbled up but it turned into a cough at the last moment. Something wet dribbled out of her mouth; she raised a hand and slowly wiped it away.

Was that drool? Had drool always been so red? No, the red was from her hands…that had been bleeding…except this red hadn’t yet dried…

“ _Lily…_ ”

James again. She looked back to him.

“ _Just hang on_ ,” he breathed, eyes still closed. “ _Kick your wand to Alice_.”

Alice? Oh, yes…she was near James, slumped against the same wall as Lily. Neville was still in her arms. She was…sitting…looking away from both of them. How would she see the wand?

 _Kick it over_ , Lily repeated in her mind. _Kick it over, kick the wand over…_ but…then she wouldn’t have a wand…

“…from me,” Voldemort was saying. Had he been talking this whole time? “You can watch as I kill the child.”

A second of clarity burst through her addled mind. _The child_. Yes, Voldemort meant to kill Neville Longbottom. Alice would take her son away. The child would be safe.

Yes…that was alright then, as long as she had James with her. James had a wand; they would make it, somehow.

As sneakily as possible, Lily nudged her foot forward and kicked her wand to Alice on the left. It rolled, slowing down as it reached her…had she not kicked hard enough? But she hadn’t wanted to break the wand.

Lily looked back at Voldemort and the Death Eaters and saw Voldemort raising his wand, a furious triumph on his face—

“ _PROTEGO!_ ” she heard James bellow.

She blinked as the shield went up. It wouldn’t stop a Killing Curse, why—

James’ hand found her own. Lily tried to follow what was happening, tried to understand, but the room was still spinning and she was moving—she barely knew where her own two feet were—

Everything was pinching her from the outside in, like she was thrown into an incredibly small space with no light and no air. She tried to scream but her lungs were smaller than they’d ever been; she couldn’t breathe—

Air. Air returned to the world.

Lily took in deep gulps of the stuff, falling to her hands and knees. Her stomach was rolling and…her eyes wouldn’t focus.

“We’ve got to keep moving!”

“Where did you take us, Alice?”

“Hogsmeade.”

“Why in Merlin’s name would you take us to Hogsmeade?”

“I don’t trust the safe houses anymore—surely you can understand that! Now get your girlfriend off the ground; if we don’t keep moving the pair of you will die!”

 _Die?_ Lily didn’t think she was dying…

Or…or was she?

 

* * *

 

“ _Lily! Lily, stay with me!_ ”

…James?

“ _Potter, you need to lie down._ ”

“ _Not until I know she’s alright!_ ”

“ _Your wound might be healed, Potter, but you still need rest! Or do I have to force you to drink that potion?_ ”

Was that…Madam Pomfrey? It sounded like her.

“ _Just do your bloody job, alright?_ ”

“ _I’d be happy to, Potter, if only you’d stop pestering me in the middle of my work!_ ”

James…shouldn’t be talking to Madam Pomfrey like that.

Lily opened her mouth to tell him off but she’d forgotten how to say so. How was she supposed to do this again? Even her voice felt too heavy to lift—was that how voices worked? Were they lifted?

“ _James I need you to come with me._ ”

“ _But sir—_ “

“ _I need to know what happened at your house. Leave Poppy to her work._ ”

That was Dumbledore, wasn’t it?

Why…why were Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey here? She tried to figure it out but her thoughts kept slipping away, down a dark pit, and she followed them…

 

* * *

 

She surfaced.

Her head was still swamped and muggy, and her entire body was too heavy to move, but…she wasn’t in that lost place anymore.

Slowly, with great effort, Lily opened her eyes.

The room she was in was dark, and the high ceiling was almost impossible to make out. She took a deep breath in and then let it out, blinking until her vision cleared. At least the world was no longer spinning. Lily tried to sit up but as soon as she tried to move her entire body screamed in protest.

“Huhhhh…” she sighed, letting her head rest against the pillow—was she lying on a bed?

Why was this room so familiar?

“Ah, look at you.”

Lily looked up to her right. Sirius sat next to her, his fingers laced together and a small grin on his lips. Nevertheless, she spotted marks of worry on his face.

“S…Sirius?” she mumbled.

“The one and only,” he agreed. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Poppy said it’d be hours from now but I thought I’d wait anyway. You tend to defy expectations, after all.”

Poppy—Madam Pomfrey. That’s right, Lily heard her voice earlier. So that meant…yes, of course. She could see it now.

This was the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts.

Lily reached out a hand toward Sirius. His grin widened and he took her hand in both of his, warming her from head to toe with that simple gesture.

“You know, when I called you a coward that one time, I didn’t mean for you to go out and get yourself killed,” he remarked. It sounded casual, coming from him, but a shadow passed across his face. Was that guilt? Sirius had never been good at handling guilt.

“I pushed Severus Snape down a flight of stairs,” Lily said suddenly.

Sirius let out a barking laugh. “Well done, Evans!”

“He…” Lily shot up like a bullet, sitting upright. She regretted it seconds later; her head spun again and she felt sick to her stomach.

“Lily?” said Sirius in concern. He gripped her hand tighter.

“James,” she forced out. “Where’s James?”

“Right there,” he answered, pointing to her left.

Lily looked over. There he was, lying on the bed next to her. His glasses were off and sitting on the nightstand between them. James’ arms were flung out across the bed and he’d mussed up the covers.

He’d fallen asleep facing her.

“Oh…” breathed Lily.

She’d never seen James asleep before. Without his glasses on, he was positively beautiful—not that he wasn’t handsome with glasses. But something about him right now felt so raw and…tender.

“You’ve still got it for him, don’t you?” she heard Sirius murmur.

“Hmm?” Lily turned to face him again.

“Your pulse picked up when you saw him,” he told her. “I felt it on your wrist.”

Lily blushed and looked at her free hand in her lap. The bloody bandages were gone, replaced by clean, stiff linens. She realised, also, that the pain had lessened somewhat.

Unexpectedly, tears sprung to her eyes. Lily didn’t have the strength to hold them back; instead, she let herself sob, her whole body heaving and shaking.

“I know, Evans,” said Sirius, moving to sit on the bed. He wrapped his arms around her and gently rocked her. “I know.”


	12. XXXI-XXXIII

**XXXI**

 

The next three days passed by very slowly, at times blurring together. Lily was confined to her bed in the Hospital Wing with the curtains nearly always drawn, lest the students see her there.

It hadn’t even occurred to Lily that there would be students, but after the first one came in asking for a Pepper-Up Potion she realised that it was nearly October and school had been in session for a month. As someone who hadn’t attended school in several years, this came as a surprise. She used to mark the days on her calendar until she could return to Hogwarts.

James’ bed was also drawn with curtains. Despite his initial liveliness when they arrived at Hogwarts, he spent his recovery in varying states of lethargy and sleep.

Apparently, before Lily had gotten to him—while she was out cold from Severus’ Stunner—the Death Eaters had tortured him into submission, and the head wound she’d been so concerned about was only one of the injuries he’d sustained. Madam Pomfrey only allowed James to sit upright when she supplied him with a Blood Replenishing Potion, once in the morning and once after supper.

He accepted this with only mild grumbling, further convincing Lily that he was not as stable as he pretended to be. James Potter would ordinarily fight anyone who wanted to keep him still.

Lily spent most of her time either watching James sleep, or staring at the curtains separating them, wondering if he was awake and what he might be thinking. She didn’t ask; even if they were conscious at the same time, they didn’t talk.

For her part, Lily didn’t know what to say.

James had gone out of his mind when he’d seen Peter alive and a Death Eater. She’d seen it with her own eyes, a madness that had overcome him and driven out the James she knew. Was that madness still there? Had it been there all along, lying dormant from the time he was held captive and tortured for two months?

She was ashamed that she hadn’t asked James more questions about that time, instead taking only what she needed from him. But Lily didn’t know how to talk to someone who’d endured that sort of thing. She still didn’t, even after this ordeal—especially after this ordeal.

James and the rest of the Order went through traumas like hers all the time. They endured it, and then they stood up and kept fighting, whereas Lily felt weary all the way to her bones. She supposed that meant she was weak.

In that case, she would just have to get stronger.

The monotony of her recovery broke at the end of the third day, when Dumbledore came into the Hospital Wing and asked Lily about her experience at the Potter Mansion.

She did her best to answer in detail, but some of her memory towards the end of the ordeal was spotty and confusing. This in itself was frustrating because Lily had always prided herself on a keen recall, but Dumbledore assured her that Alice and James’ testimony of Voldemort’s arrival was more than enough.

Still, an unsettling sensation of uselessness crept up on her those three days, growing stronger after Dumbledore left her that night.

 

* * *

 

On the fourth morning, a little after breakfast, Lily received an unexpected visitor. She could still hear the dull roar of students in the Great Hall, preparing for their classes, and the occasional passersby outside the doors of the Hospital Wing. The sound increased greatly, and Lily looked to see who had entered.

“Good morning,” Alice Longbottom said crisply, sliding through the narrow opening she’d made. She shut the door quickly, stifling the commotion of the castle.

“Good…good morning,” replied Lily, at a loss. She heaved herself into a sitting position, ignoring the twinge of pain in her wrists. “Are you here to see James? He’s gone back to sleep, I think.”

She wasn’t sure; Madam Pomfrey had closed the curtains around James’ bed immediately after breakfast and his Blood Replenishing Potion. But Lily hoped he was sleeping and that Alice would leave quickly, because the sight of her had Lily’s stomach roiling in guilt.

“Actually, I’m here to see you.”

“Oh.”

Lily braced herself as Alice walked across the room and sat down in the same chair Sirius had occupied days earlier. She crossed her ankles and sat upright, her posture perfect and lady-like. Alice was certainly born into an elite family, that much was evident.

The two women observed each other for a few minutes, Lily growing increasingly uncomfortable as the time wore on. Next to pristine, straight-backed, fully-dressed Alice Longbottom, distinguished Auror, Lily was just a boring old housewife from Cokeworth with messy hair and clad in a borrowed nightgown. Her hair was still patchy and growing in slowly where the acid had burned through.

“We never really had the chance to meet,” said Alice abruptly, leaning forward a little. “I’m Alice Longbottom, I’m sure you know. And you are?”

“Lily Ev-Beauchamp. Lily Beauchamp,” she corrected, biting her lip.

“That Death Eater said your last name was Evans,” the other woman remarked with a frown.

“It was, when I went to school here.”

Alice nodded. “It took a while for me to be comfortable enough to say ‘Longbottom’ for my surname. It’s interesting isn’t it? We give up our family names for the men we love and don’t really question it. At least, I know I didn’t, not until after the wedding. Then I thought, ‘who is this Alice Longbottom? What sort of name is that?’ How confusing.”

Despite her casual tone, Lily could see a crack in the Auror’s complacent face.

“I wouldn’t know,” Lily said slowly. “I didn’t marry for love.”

“Ah…” Alice leaned back into the chair, studying Lily further.

She fidgeted under her scrutiny.

“I’m sorry,” Lily blurted out.

“For what?”

“For…for what I said,” she fumbled, trying to put it into words. “I made your husband sound like a… _thing_ , and I was careless with how I spoke, and you’re probably grieving right now and I’m talking about my own husband—”

“Hadn’t you already apologised for what you said?” Alice interrupted, pursing her lips. “Back at the safe house. You apologised right after.”

“Oh, I…I don’t really remember much of what happened after you Stunned those two Death Eaters,” Lily admitted, involuntarily reaching around and touching the bandage on the back of her head. “I just know I said something awful to you.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t see much good in resenting someone who’s already apologised,” she said slowly. “It was the heat of the moment, after all, in the middle of a desperate situation. And you were right, at that—if James and I had listened to you, we might have Apparated out without you getting injured. He certainly beat himself up over that.”

“He—he did?” Lily glanced over at the curtains that hid James from sight.

Alice nodded. “He’s quite taken with you—does he know you’re married?”

“Yes,” Lily whispered, staring at her hands.

“Well, that’s none of my business,” she said, though when Lily looked over her eyes cast judgment. “I came here to find out what sort of person you are.”

“Pardon?”

The Auror tilted her head to the side. “Taking out the infiltrator Peter Pettigrew and three Death Eaters with a wand not your own, while bleeding to death, and rescuing not only my son and I but James as well—not to mention you recounted tossing Severus Snape down the stairs. That’s quite impressive for a brand-new member, and one living as a Muggle at that.”

Lily frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I asked,” said Alice, as if it were the simplest thing. “So tell me, Lily Beauchamp, or Evans, or whatever you like; what sort of person are you?”

What an odd question.

Lily looked at her hands again, as if she could see her wounds if she stared hard enough. For some reason, she kept coming back to them over the last four days. When she wasn’t sleeping or looking toward James, her eyes fixed on those bandages.

She’d gotten them by thinking like a Muggle in the middle of a wizard’s fight, and it had saved the lives of the man she loved and this woman sitting at her side.

She gave them to herself.

For two years, Lily had wallowed and withered while pretending to be a Muggle when all she wanted was to be a witch, even if she couldn’t fully admit it to herself. Yet the second she was called upon to act as a witch, she turned out to be more of a Muggle than she’d thought. What did that make her? A coward, like Sirius said, hiding in Cokeworth all this time? Even when she got out was she still hiding?

“I don’t really know,” Lily answered, dropping each word deliberately, like a stone into water. “I used to, but…I think that’s something I have to figure out.” She looked back to the other woman. “Sorry, I don’t think I can tell you just now.”

Alice sighed, uncrossing her ankles and scooting to the edge of the chair. “I like most of what I’ve seen so far from you,” she told Lily. “I think we could be friends, if we got a chance to meet properly. Once you’ve figured yourself out, let me know.”

She rose from her seat and made to step around the chair.

“Wait!” Lily called out. Alice turned to her. “Er…Neville,” she went on awkwardly. “How is he?”

“He’s fine,” she replied. “I was worried—that Stunning Spell knocked him out—but Madam Pomfrey set him to rights. He’s sleeping now; I asked a House-Elf to watch after him for the moment.”

“And…” Lily felt ridiculous; she had no right to ask what she wanted to, and she even knew what the answer would be…but all the same, she couldn’t _not_ ask. “How are you?”

The crack in Alice’s calm expression spidered out, and the entire mask broke to pieces within seconds of Lily’s question. In its place was stark, painful grief.

“My husband is dead,” Alice answered, looking to the floor. “I watched him die in front of my eyes. He threw himself in front of my son and they killed him just for being a father. He was the love of my life, my _partner_ , and he’s dead and I can’t bring him back no matter what I do. How am I? I’m dead too. A part of me died with him—too large a part.”

Lily couldn’t bear to watch the other woman anymore. She fixed her eyes on the door to Madam Pomfrey’s office, blinking back tears of sympathy.

“But I can’t be dead,” she went on, “because I have a son who needs me to live for him. Especially now that Voldemort came so close to killing him and failed. He’ll need me even more now and…and Frank wouldn’t want me to die with him and leave Neville all alone. So, I suppose I don’t know myself either, if it comes to that.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily managed through a tight throat. “I can’t imagine…”

“I hope you never have to know,” said Alice. Her footsteps echoed on the walls as she left the Hospital Wing. The door creaked impossibly loud, and then it slammed shut.

 

* * *

 

**XXXII**

“ _Who is this?”_

 _…Pain…_ _Indescribable, worse than the acid, worse than the burns, than her hands—_

“ _Don’t speak to me!_ ”

_CRACK. CRACK. CRACK._

“Lily!”

The voice seemed to come from far away, miles and miles above her, but…she knew that voice.

Slowly, her eyes opened. She could just make out James’ concerned face hovering above her, his glasses slipping dangerously far down his nose. It was so dark that she couldn’t make out the finer details of him…it was night, then.

“Hi,” she said stupidly, still half-asleep. “Why are you up?”

“You were crying in your sleep,” he mumbled. Lily imagined she could see his eyes darting to every corner of her face. “I was worried.”

“Oh…”

James reached out a hand and brushed wayward strands of hair off her face. She closed her eyes and sighed at the feel of his fingers on her skin, at the gentleness of his calloused hands.

“I’ve missed you,” she said absently.

“I’ve been right next to you,” said James, a hint of laughter in his voice. “I was in bed the entire time, I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yes you have.”

He didn’t say anything.

Lily opened her eyes again and stared up at him. She almost felt guilty for saying it; of course he didn’t want to talk about what happened back at his home. What he felt, what he thought—she could begin to fathom his level of hurt. But all the same, he _hadn’t_ been there this entire time.

“I think…” her voice broke. She tried again. “I think I killed someone. Back at the house, I mean. The Death Eater who took you out in the study. I think I killed him. I know I did, actually.”

“Lily…”

“I never wanted to kill anyone,” Lily went on. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t. Silly thing to do, but…when I saw what he’d done to you, I lost my head.”

“You did what you had to do,” James told her quietly. His hand had stopped moving on her face.

“I was glad to kill him,” she confessed. “I heard his skull crack open and I thought, ‘ _well, that’s good.’_ But now I just feel like a murderer. Because I am.”

He was very still. Lily turned her head and looked away, trying not to cry.

And then James grabbed her hand. “Come on,” he muttered, pulling her out of bed.

The cold night air hit her as soon as she was free of the sheets, her skin instantly covered in goose pimples. James tugged her over to a cabinet and opened it, releasing her to grab two robes. After they’d both slung them on, he laced their fingers together again and led her out of the Hospital Wing.

Hogwarts at night wasn’t exactly silent—the portraits were whispering or snoring, depending on the corridor—but it was very different in the middle of the night. Lily had a brief moment of panic, afraid they would get caught out of bed, like she was still a student. But no, they weren’t bound by any such rules. They could come and go as they pleased.

Their destination turned out to be the Great Hall; James pulled open one of the large doors, eyeing it appreciatively.

“Lucky it was open,” he remarked.

Lily frowned. “You weren’t sure?”

“Nah, it changes all the time,” said James as they went inside. “Some teachers lock it, some don’t bother…bet you anything it was Filch on duty tonight. He can’t lock it so he doesn’t try.”

“Oh.”

They stopped in front of the Gryffindor table.

“Lie down,” he told her.

She blinked. “What?”

“Lie down,” James repeated. He turned to her with a smirk. “On the table. Go on, then.”

Lily did as he said, her movements slow and hesitant. The second she was completely reclined, James hoisted himself up and dropped down next to her.

“Look at that sky,” he remarked, pointing at the brilliant cluster of stars. “All that light, and it’s still dark out. Almost makes you wonder what the point is.”

If he was talking about something other than the image of night on the bewitched ceiling, he didn’t show it. They lay in silence for a while, gazing up, James tapping out a rhythm with his fingers on the tabletop. A cloud drifted slowly across.

“The first man I killed,” James began suddenly, “didn’t die slowly. I got to see his face—dunno who he was, but he was a Death Eater and I’d used a spell I shouldn’t have. He died screaming, his face turning purple—it was awful.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“At the time, I thought I was the worst person alive. I ended someone else’s life, painfully, and there I was, living and breathing and completely fine. I kept beating myself up for it until someone sat me down and reminded me that Death Eater probably killed loads of innocent people and didn’t feel even a bit of the remorse I did for ending his life.

“Killing tears at your soul, you know; makes a tiny rip in it. You kill enough people and your soul gets so ripped up, you just stop caring. You’ve got to want to care.” James turned his head toward her. “That Death Eater? He wanted to kill me. He would’ve enjoyed it. He’s probably killed loads of people too; might’ve been the one to kill Frank or Benjy. And he won’t be killing anyone else now that you’ve stopped him.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” she muttered, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. They spilled down the sides of her face.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “But that’s the price we pay for joining the Order. We have to do some awful things to keep others from suffering. We probably won’t be alright by the end of it, if we even make it to the end alive, but that’s worth it if we can help people.”

Lily watched the drifting cloud move out of sight. “So we’re both ruined now.” She sighed and rubbed at her face. “Do you still want me, now that I’ve got a tear in my soul?”

“I’ll always want you,” he said gently. “I’m…I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Peter just—it’s a lot to take in, you know? I had to sort it all out, and after what happened to me those two months last year…I don’t think I’m as fine as I thought.”

“I know that,” Lily told him. She startled herself with the loudness of her own voice. “I know a lot happened, but I wanted to be there for you. I still want that. I think I always will.”

She heard James draw in a sharp breath. “Always?”

“I…” she was trembling. “You know I love you, don’t you? You do know that?”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I love you too,” he whispered. “I know I’m an idiot for loving a married woman but…I’m glad to take all the misery.”

“I don’t have to be,” said Lily. “Married, that is. Or, I could be married, but not to…not to Richard. I could be married to someone else. Eventually. Possibly.”

“Is that a proposal?” James chuckled.

She felt her cheeks heat up. “You know what I said.”

He raised his arm and settled it around her shoulders, his arm a pillow for her head. Lily leaned into him, inhaling his scent. It was covered up with soap and linens from the Hospital Wing, but that woodsy smell still hung about him. For the first time since arriving at Potter Mansion, Lily felt a little of the worry in her chest release.

Which reminded her…

“Why didn’t you tell me the safe house was going to be your home?” she asked him.

“Ah…” he cringed. “It’s stupid.”

Lily hadn’t expected that; she rolled onto her side, ignoring the harsh surface of the wood table. “What do you mean, stupid?”

“I…alright, you can’t laugh,” he warned, an impossible blush spreading across his face. “ _Merlin._ Ever since fourth year I— _ugh_ —I’ve had this fantasy of showing you my house, and you getting all impressed and…I dunno, fancying me. Really stupid. Look how that turned out, anyway.”

“I don’t need to see the size of your house to fancy you,” said Lily, suppressing a giggle. He really was adorable, despite how much he tried to hide it.

“Nah, just…you know, a place that was really _me_.”

She couldn’t think of what to say, so she put her arm on his chest and snuggled in closer.

This was what she’d been missing, this closeness she’d barely begun to experience with him. Touching him, laughing with him, talking or just staying silent—all of that was part of being with James, and Lily didn’t think she could settle for stolen moments anymore, not after being so afraid of losing him entirely. The fact that he loved her so much made her head spin.

She didn’t want to stop spinning, not ever again.

“I think…” James cleared his throat. “The boys and I, we talked it over a couple days ago. You were asleep. Sirius and Remus and I, we’re going to hunt down Peter. If he’s still alive, he’s going to answer to us for what he’s done. We’ve all lost people we care about because of him.”

“Good,” said Lily. “He should be hunted down.”

“And after that…” he turned to look at her. Their noses brushed together. “I’m going to move out of Sirius’ flat. It’s too crowded with both him and Remus bunking there. I really only want to live with one other person.”

“Sounds reasonable,” she said, managing to sound casual even with her heart hammering out of her chest.

James kissed her gently. “I know I’m not alright yet,” he breathed, “but I feel better when I’m with you.”

Lily knew exactly what he meant.

 

* * *

 

**XXXIII**

 

(1978)

“How is she?” Richard asked quietly.

When she didn’t immediately answer, he passed Lily a tissue; she took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. She’d been crying and wiping her eyes so much lately that her skin was tender and felt like it might fall apart if she rubbed at it.

“Awful,” said Lily, once she could trust her voice not to break. “I can’t believe it; she wasn’t nearly this bad when I visited for Easter.”

And a lucky thing Lily had visited—she’d nearly stayed at the castle to study for her N.E.W.T.s, but a letter from her father had called her home at the last minute. Still, she barely recognised her own mother, with that grey skin and those hollow cheeks. That wasn’t her mother, who had always been made of smiles and warmth.

Richard reached out and patted her arm gently.

“She wouldn’t stop talking about you, either,” Lily went on, a bitter laugh breaking through her silent misery. “How heartbroken you must be, what with Petunia married to Vernon now. Can you believe our mothers have the gall to—to…”

“You don’t have to speak ill of your mum,” Richard told her, pulling her into a one-armed hug. He hadn’t held her like this since they were children. “She doesn’t know I’ve never cared for Tuney that way. It’s not her fault.”

“No, but she’s got all her hopes pinned on this silly fantasy of hers,” Lily sighed.

He hesitated. “What if we…”

“What?” Lily pulled away from him and looked him in the eye. “What if we what?”

“Look, we could do it, you know,” said Richard, all in a rush. “We could just stage a wedding, not even a real one—that could cheer her up, you know, before she—” he caught himself at the last moment.

“Before she dies?”

He dropped his gaze to his feet. “It’s just a thought.”

Lily opened her mouth to argue, to explain just how poor an idea that was…but she found she had no explanation to offer. What else was she doing, anyhow? Going back to the Wizarding world, with no job and a war targeted specifically at people like her?

She could fight, if she wanted to, but she would end up fighting alone and probably die alone too, perhaps even before her mother passed. Lily didn’t want to die and…she _did_ want to see her mother smile. Here, at least, she could do some good.

“Is your father still giving you a hard time?” Lily said hesitantly.

“Er…yeah,” Richard muttered, not looking up.

She took a deep breath. “What if it was a real wedding?”

 

* * *

 

Lily had just finished coaxing a protesting Mosley into his carrying cage when the front door opened.

“Oh! You’re home,” Richard said, sounding both surprised and pleased. “Did you just get in?” he gestured to her suitcases.

“I got in this morning,” she told him over the sounds of her wailing cat. “ _Hush_ , Mosley.”

He frowned. “Then…”

“I’m leaving, Richard. I’ve called a cab; it’ll be here soon to take me to the train station.”

The words hung between them, illuminating the distance between them. Lily felt a sizeable knot in her chest begin to unwind—which was good, because she had acquired so many knots in the last week that she didn’t have room for this one anymore.

His eyes widened, and he slowly closed the door behind him. “You…but you just got back,” he said with a hint of desperation.

“Richard.”

“Why?” he demanded. “What happened?”

“I can’t stand this anymore,” Lily said simply. “Living like this? I shouldn’t ever have agreed to it.”

“Wha—Lily, this was your idea!” Richard protested, stepping forward. “You said we could do this for a few years and as soon as I got enough money to get both of us out of here—”

She shook her head. “It was a bad idea, and in any case, you’re never going to leave. Not while Paul is still here. You know that.”

“He would leave if I asked—”

“No he won’t,” Lily interrupted harshly. “At least acknowledge the sort of man you fell in love with. Paul is selfish and he won’t leave his family, not when life is so easy for him here. He won’t leave for you, any fool could see that. Why can’t you?”

Richard’s face went pale.

“This isn’t about Paul, anyway,” she went on. “Maybe it’s about Paul for you, but for me…I don’t want to be married to someone who can’t love me. Or who I don’t love. I don’t want to hide out here in this house, keeping secrets and battling neighbours. My enemies shouldn’t be gossipy women, they should be—” she bit her tongue; her enemies were dangerous wizards, and she wasn’t about to tell Richard any of that.

“Couldn’t you stay just a little longer?” Richard pleaded quietly.

“I’ve rented a flat,” said Lily. “Near my old school. And I spoke with a divorce attorney. He’ll be delivering papers to you soon; I didn’t ask for any money, I’m just taking the clothes on my back and Mosley and I’ll be out of your life.”

Richard reached out to her; she took a step back.

“Why?” he asked again, his voice broken. “You can’t leave me like this—what am I going to do? How am I going to explain all this?”

She felt a rush of sympathy for him. “Tell them I ran off with the contractor,” she suggested quietly. “No one will question you if you mope about single for a few years. Pass it off as a broken heart, paint me the villain, whatever you have to do.”

“The contractor…” Richard frowned and dropped his arm. “Who was this contractor, anyway? Was he even—”

“No, he isn’t,” said Lily. Even now, she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at the thought of James. “He’s not a contractor—but I suppose I am running off with him, in a way.”

“Who is he?”

“You’ve met him,” she told him.

Richard’s frowned deepened, obviously straining to recall meeting any men she would run off with. It was probably difficult for him to notice anything Lily would want.

“The dog, Richard,” Lily said at last, taking pity on him. “Remember the dog?”

“I… _oh_ ,” he said, eyes widening. “The dog owner? What was his name…John?”

“James,” she corrected. A smile broke through her stern demeanor as she said his name. “I love him. I have for quite some time, but now I know he loves me, and I can’t stay apart from him.”

“You’ve only just met him?” Richard argued in dismay. “Three months ago!”

Lily didn’t want to explain James to Richard. “So you see, I don’t want to be with anyone but him. I don’t know if we’ll get married or not—I hope we will, someday—but I can’t have anyone else in my life. I’ve got to be selfish this time. I can’t—I _won’t_ give up what I want anymore.”

Richard started backing away, his arm spread out in front of the door as if he could block her. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair that I’ve been stuck here for two years!” Lily snapped back. “Alone, and friendless, while you go out and see Paul at work every day, and you’re with him almost every night. You don’t understand how hard it’s been for me, do you? Because I haven’t complained for you sake!”

“I might see Paul every day but I have to pretend that I don’t…that we’re not…you think that’s easy, Lily?” he asked frantically. “Do you really think I’ve gotten the better end of this?”

A honk sounded from the street.

“That’s my cab,” she said, and picked up her things and Mosley. “Move, Richard.”

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t; but then, with shoulders drooping, he stepped aside and allowed her to open the door.

Just before she crossed the threshold, she paused and turned back to him. “You should get out too,” she suggested quietly. “Leave Cokeworth and go to London. They don’t care as much in London who you’re living with or who you love. See if Paul comes with you. I doubt he will, but maybe I’m wrong. For your sake, I hope I am.”

The cabbie opened up the trunk of his car as she trundled down the porch steps.

“This everything, miss?”

“Yes,” she told him, handing over the larger suitcase.

“Very good.” He paused and eyed Mosley’s cage, who began yowling the second he realised someone was paying attention to him again. “I don’t take animals.”

“He’ll behave,” Lily promised. “Besides, it’s only a short drive, yes?”

“Hmm,” the cabbie said, pursing his lips as he put her second suitcase in the trunk. Thankfully, he didn’t forbid her from taking Mosley—she wouldn’t be able to bear it. He opened the door for her.

She turned to wave goodbye to Richard, but the door was already closed and Richard out of sight. It was probably just as well, she thought, as she looked at her bare left hand. She sighed and climbed into the back seat, settling Mosley next to her.

The cabbie shut the door and scrambled around to the driver’s side. Lily kept her eye on the Masterson’s house across the street. She wondered if Mrs Masterson was watching right now, and how long it would take for the rumors to spread. Perhaps she was already on the phone.

Well, she mused, as the cab pulled away from the sidewalk, it wasn’t her problem anymore. Richard would be alright; he was smart enough. She didn’t need to worry about the gossiping old neighbours any longer.

Lily watched the houses on Packer Street as they flew by, saying a silent goodbye to each and every one. She felt a slight twinge of guilt as she passed her old home, where her father was likely inside, watching a game. He probably needed her…but she could do so much more good in the Wizarding world and, if she was being honest, she was tired of caring for everyone’s needs but her own.

The cab turned onto Weaver’s Lane, and she leaned back after catching a glimpse of that old park where she would play with Petunia, the park where she met Severus Snape.

She had once told James that nothing ever started in Cokeworth, but it occurred to Lily right then that she was wrong.

After all, she was born here. She’d met Severus and learned she was a witch here. She’d gotten her letter to Hogwarts here. She first heard about the war here. Lily had met Richard, discovered his secret, and married him, all in Cokeworth. She and James started here, and here was where she’d joined the Order.

Even now, at this moment, something else was starting—her new life.

Perhaps, Lily reasoned, with a small smile on her face, perhaps everything in her life always started in Cokeworth. Perhaps the story of her life was littered with this town.

But that didn’t mean she had to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway that took me way too long to tranfser over here. sorry to anyone who may be reading this!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, hi, I posted this already about two years ago now, I think? I'll be updating here once a week but if you happen to miraculously a) read this and b) like it enough to not want to wait, you can find it on my tumblr of the same username.


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